Seafoam
by noelswonderland
Summary: All good things eventually come to an end. This, too, has a time limit. And when it is over, he must disappear like seafoam among the waves. Shizaya / Shizuo x Izaya - AU
1. enigma

**chapter zero-one ;; enigma**

There is a heavy weight across his chest – someone's arm. Groggily, he throws it off as he crawls to the edge of the mattress. His entire body aches and his mind is still partly hazy from the drugs he was on the night before. It takes a moment to piece together what transpired in that dope-induced stupor. From beneath the warm comforter that he just abandoned, a voice beckons him.

"Hey... Where you going so early?"

Not that he feels any obligation to respond, but he breathes out, "School," as he lifts himself off the bed and rummages through the trash and clothes strewn about the floor, trying to find something to wear. Whether it is his own or the other man's, he does not have much regard for what he dresses himself in. And what turns out to be baggy, ripped jeans that sit precariously on his waist and an over-sized t-shirt, probably does not belong to either of them. Another man, maybe? Izaya does not care.

"You comin' back tonight?"

Izaya pauses at the bedside table to peek into the man's wallet, taking a wad of cash out. There isn't much left, but the guy owes Izaya anyways. "Eh, you don't seem to have enough money," he responds, "Maybe once you get paid at the end of the week."

"Feh," the man groans as he tosses under the blanket irritably. "Fuckin' queer."

Stuffing the cash into his pant pocket, Izaya shuffles to the door and pulls his shoes on. No socks – he isn't sure where they are. Frankly, he does not care, either. And he heads straight to school without any attention to his disheveled appearance. His hair is wild, loose locks jutting this way and that. It is the way he looks like he just got out of bed – and he did – that manages to get the girls murmuring about him as he passes by.

At the school, he is little more than an enigma. Occasionally he attends classes, enough so that he can pass. But whether he decides to come or not is decided on his own whims. Today is one of those days. Although he does not feel particularly cognizant, still in a bit of a daze, he manages to get to the classroom and take his seat.

It is only the second week of the first semester of the year. So he naturally does not know the name of the girl that ends up sitting beside him. Though, frankly, even if it was near the end of the semester, he would not know her name. Izaya rarely pays attention to his surroundings, unless there is something that particularly piques his interest.

"Ah, hello!" she greets him, more bubbly than she looks.

Briefly, he glances over at her with his tired, unfocused eyes. At least today they are not bloodshot. "Hey," he greets casually, in a smooth voice as though the word rolls of his tongue naturally. He is a charismatic person – he draws people to him without trying to. So it isn't any surprise to him when people try to communicate. And fortunately for her, he is not so high today that he is as unresponsive as he usually is.

"My name is Erika." She seems a little eccentric, not by appearance because she is relatively plain and average in those terms, but in the general way she presents herself. "You are Izaya, aren't you? Izaya Orihara?" Apparently he has met her before (unlikely), or she knows of his reputation. He assumes the latter.

"Ah, yep. That's my name." Out of the corner of his eye, he observes her. Watches as she gets out her pencil and her notebook, ready to jot down some notes as soon as the class begins.

"You weren't here last class, were you?"

Not that he can remember. "Hm? Wasn't I?" His eyes swivel as he looks around, as though the answer will come from the empty chair beside him or the chalkboard at the front of the room. "Seems like I might have been absent, Erika-chan~"

"Hm-hm," she hums to herself. "Well, you can borrow my notes if you want." For some reason, and maybe it is just his imagination, she seems more friendly than most of the people he ends up inadvertently seated beside. Not that he is unused to such attention but she seems to lavish it on him.

"Are you hoping to get closer to me by doing that?" he questions her motive.

"Guilty," Erika answers, unabashed. "You know, I was reading this manga the other day-"

And just as he is about to inwardly admonish himself for sitting beside an otaku, the doors to the classroom suddenly burst open. It is loud enough to gain Izaya's attention, though he looks back belatedly, his actions delayed by the lingering effects of the drugs. "Ah? Blondie?" Although the other word sitting at the back of his throat to call the new entry is something else – Hercules, maybe, because he seems pretty muscular.

"Shizuo Heiwajima," Erika informs from beside him. "Just like in a manga... He's like the tsundere character. In the mafia and all. Ahh~ paired with a..."

While the otaku rattles off her odd fantasies, Izaya tears his gaze away. He has never seen Blondie around school before. And maybe that is because every other student seems inclined to dye their hair too that Izaya does not think this Shizuo character would have stood out in his mind even if he had seen him before, anyways.

Except, and it must be because Izaya rolled off the wrong side of the bed when he woke up this morning, Blondie decides to sit right beside him. And he slams his bag onto the desk as he plops down into his chair roughly, nearly knocking it into Izaya's.

"Hah~" Izaya breathes out a sigh of exasperation, "So ungraceful."

Behind the shades covering the taller man's eyes, he peers over at Izaya. And it is at this close proximity that Izaya notices that Blondie has a cigarette butt protruding from the side of his lips, although it has nearly burned down to the filter. Small wisps of smoke rise from it and Izaya deliberately chokes on the smell, contorting his face into a look of disgust.

"Must not have read the sign," he taunts. "There is no smoking allowed in the classroom... Shizu-chan, was it?"

Those words should certainly elicit some kind of reaction. Yet the only noticeable indication that the blonde even heard Izaya at all is that he reaches up and grasps the cigarette, wrenching it out of his mouth. It almost seems as though he might be angry – since he suddenly tosses the butt to the ground and puts it out with his shoe, grinding the sole and spreading ash across the floor.

Izaya's eyes watch languidly. As usual, he gives off the appearance of being completely disinterested in the world. Yet the peaceful state of the classroom is abruptly interrupted when he finds himself suddenly dangling in the air, the collar of his own shirt strangling him.

"What'd you say?" the other man asks in a low growl. He really is like Hercules. This strength is completely unnatural.

Not particularly keen to remain suspended in the air, Izaya contemplates sending a swift kick toward the blonde. Fortunately neither of them are given the opportunity to continue the confrontation because the doors suddenly burst open again.

A nervous, bumbling female enters. She appears to be the professor; dressed in a modest button-up blouse and pencil skirt. "S-sorry I'm late." Apologizing profusely, she makes her way to the front of the classroom.

Izaya follows her out of the corner of his eyes, somewhat surprised that he does not recognize her face. Then again, his memory retention has always been rather fuzzy, primarily a result of his drug usage. That probably also explains why he cannot remember the last time he attended this particular class. Maybe this was his first time after all.

"Um... is something the matter? I would like to start class," the teacher interjects, her eyes pointed in the direction of Izaya and Shizuo.

The dark-haired student peaks his brows while peering over at Shizuo. "I think what the dim-witted teacher is trying to relay is that you're being disruptive to the learning atmosphere. People like you don't belong somewhere like a college campus. Maybe you should leave." His words, spoken clearly and loud enough that the entire class can hear them, seem to elicit a collective groan. Maybe everyone else realizes the possible repercussions which Izaya does not seem to consider at all.

Yet those dark, opaque eyes of his only stare challengingly back at Shizuo – whose own eyes are covered by blue-shaded sunglasses. Izaya cannot see past them enough to make out what emotion the blonde is experiencing. He does not need to; it soon becomes apparent when the Herculean man's face contorts and Izaya finds the room blurring around him. At first he suspects he will be thrown into the distance, but rather impressively, this Shizuo person seems to restrain himself. He just releases Izaya who plummets the short distance through the air, landing rather ungracefully on his seat which gives under the force. He topples over onto the ground with an audible groan and probably a bruise on the arm that ends up being smashed beneath his body weight.

The blonde, in the meantime, mumbles something that seems to be along the lines of Izaya not being worth his time anyways. Then, still livid and fuming, he shoves his hands into his pockets and kicks some chairs out of the way before exiting the classroom.

"Are you stupid or just fearless?" Erika wonders out loud as she sets Izaya's chair upright while he peels himself off of the floor.

A low chortle escapes his lips as he hears her question. He deposits himself back in his chair, feeling a little more worse for wear than when he first entered the classroom this morning. Yet something in him feels a little more alive now. There is something within that yearns to provoke that blonde more – he does not know why, but he gets some kind of enjoyment out of it. Someone like that who seems aloof and unaffected by the rest of the world just needs to have their feathers ruffled occasionally.

"W-well, now that the disturbance is over with, let's start." The professor smiles nervously before changing the subject and beginning the lecture.

Izaya watches with disinterest, tuning out most of it. His attention is drawn elsewhere. He can vividly recall the anger that flashed in Shizuo's eyes. At first Izaya had passed him off as just some big brute, but maybe that is not true. Still, what is someone like that doing at a University? He clicks his tongue; that is a hypocritical question. Someone could easily ask him the same. Most of the time he is too high to really pay attention in class anyways. His grades are also perfectly indicative of how much interest and effort he pours into his school work. He has no business being here either. Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite, he repeats in his head over and over.

By the time the class period is over, lunch time is rolling around, and Izaya is loathe to waste a penny in the cafeteria. He is more inclined to skip eating altogether to conserve money. Frugal, some might call him, but in reality it is simply because he has to scrounge just to be able to afford to go to the university to begin with. It seems nonsensical; why not take it seriously if he has to sleep with other men to pay his tuition? From the outside it might seem contradictory but Izaya himself is a puzzle.

"Hey, do you want to eat with me?" Erika chirps up from behind him as he is shuffling down the hallway.

He side-eyes her for a moment as though evaluating the question. "You want to buy me lunch?" It comes out less as a genuine question and more as a persuasive way of prompting her to front the bill for his satiation. Such methods have been employed successfully by him many a time before.

This time seems no different as she gives a cheerful, "Sure!"

Izaya suspects she obliges so readily because she is expecting something from him, but even that does not detract from the allure of a free meal. He wears a cat-like grin as he follows along beside her to the cafeteria.

"By the way, you're okay, aren't you? It seems like Heiwajima went really easy on you. Lucky~ you should be more careful. Oh, do you watch anime? Have you seen..."

There she goes on her otaku tangent again. It's all he can do to tune her out to save his sanity. Maybe the whole reason she offered to buy him food was so that he would willingly suffer her babbling about the latest episodes of her favorite series. Izaya almost wants to tell her that he does not watch television. He usually stays at a different house or apartment every night, anyways. None of them his own.

By the time they settle down to eat, the average-looking meal set out before Izaya on a lunch tray looks like a sumptuous feast. He has not eaten breakfast and so his stomach growls noisily, prompting him to dig in. For that, maybe a part of him feels even a fraction grateful toward Erika despite her incessant rambling.

"So last night there was a rerun of..."

She had still not settled down when suddenly someone called out to her. It was the only thing that gave Izaya's ears a momentary break, although he was certain it would not last long.

Their half-empty table had attracted another student. Yumacchi, as Erika had called him – though Izaya was not about to refer to the man the same way. He had a smile that stretched from one ear to the other as he gave Izaya a cheerful greeting.

"So you managed to reel in someone else? Who is it?"

"Izaya Orihara!" she declares with a cheesy grin.

Not that he suspects the other man will know who he is. Yet to Izaya's surprise, this 'Yumacchi' seems to have a look of recognition. "Ah! So you're that Izaya Orihara." What is that even supposed to mean? Izaya can only suspect it to be a negative thing that his own reputation precedes him. "The one that hangs around that part of town, right?"

"Aw, why did you have to bring it up like that?"

"You're a fujoshi, you were bound to ask eventually, right?"

Izaya blinks slowly as he takes in what they are saying. Is the man alluding to Izaya sleeping around? Or his near-constant drug-induced stupor that leaves him rather numb to his surroundings? He suspects the latter to not be nearly as interesting as the former. Perhaps the campus has been swept up with rumors about his involvement with random men.

"Heh, that's true," she concedes – neither of the two of them aware of the thoughts in Izaya's head as he silently contemplates what their conversation is even about to begin with. "So is it true? Are you gay?"

She asks just as he is taking a drink of water and he nearly spews it across the table at her. Fortunately he manages to choke it down, patting his chest violently.

"Sorry, did I catch you off-guard?"

That hardly seems like the issue... Izaya quirks a brow at her. "And if I am?"

Rather than seeming put off by this information, she claps her hands together gleefully. "Ah, that would be so awesome! So is it true? It is, right?"

Yumacchi just seems to roll his eyes at her antics. Perhaps he is more accustomed to them.

Izaya is a little disappointed that the reaction he is eliciting from her is such an accepting and happy one. He manages a wry grin before shaking his head. "Nope. Don't know where you have been getting your information but it's wrong."

Disheartened, she sinks back in her seat. "No way!"

"I told you," Yumacchi mumbles as he takes a bite out of his sandwich.

"But then what about all those rumors about you staying at guys' houses?"

"They're true."

Any other person might have been shocked that he would answer something private with such honesty. But Erika seems rather delighted at this revelation. "Aha! I knew it! But wait... does that mean you are just staying with friends?"

This conversation is growing rather boring quickly. Izaya tries to speed up his eating. He is not really keen on answering all these incessant questions. "No, they're not friends." Eat faster, faster, faster.

"Then is it like the rumors say? Are you getting paid to...?"

"Aren't you being a little rude?" Someone cuts in suddenly as they take a sit next to Erika – adjacent to where Izaya is sitting. "Maybe he doesn't want to answer."

"Dotachin, don't suddenly interrupt like that!" she protests with great disappointment.

On the contrary, Izaya cannot be more grateful for the interruption. It gives him just the opportunity that he needs. "Time for me to go. Thanks for the food. See you in class, Erika-chan." He extracts himself from the table.

"B-but wait, we're not finished talking yet–"

"Let the guy go if he wants to," 'Dotachin' chides.

Returning his tray, Izaya wanders out of the bustling cafeteria. Since his stomach is full, he figures it is a good time to take a nap. Since the sun is bright and the wind is calm, the outdoors seems like a good place to catch a few winks before his next class. He ventures out the side entrance of the building but finds it busy with people. Finding a proper place without much traffic might prove to be more difficult than he initially thought.

So he seeks out a remote corner near the University's baseball field. There is a few trees providing the perfect amount of shade. He can feel it beckoning him. The exhaustion clings to his eyelids and weighs down heavily. He can hardly wait. Perhaps that is why he is like a cat – sleep as long at night as he likes but a nice nap in the warmth of the sunlight, that's something he can scarcely resist.

But as he comes closer, he notices the spot is already occupied. That in itself would not prove much a problem if not for the person that happens to be sitting there. Izaya can feel a foreign emotion bubble in the pit of his stomach – morbid delight?

"Ho~ what a coincidence," he remarks, gaining the attention of the other.

Dark, narrow eyes regard him critically as the man named Shizuo Heiwajima cranes his neck to get a glimpse of the intruder. He sits with one leg extended, the other folded up – an arm positioned awkwardly upon his knee. From his lips protrudes a cigarette with narrow wisps of smoke lifting up into the air.

"Such an odd place to spend the lunch hour." Izaya's mind immediately begins working in overdrive as he starts trying to infer possible reasons that Shizuo could be loitering in such a remote place rather than spending his break with friends. "No friends?" he assumes out loud.

The man's brows twitch, probably in annoyance.

Izaya guesses that he has hit the mark by that reaction. The sound of the University's baseball team practicing interrupts their one-sided interaction. It draws Izaya's attention. He realizes that this is a perfect position to watch the game from. Does that mean...?

"Practicing even through the lunch hour, such dedication." His words give the impression that he is praising them but his tone almost seems mocking. Izaya glances at Shizuo to gauge his reaction as he speaks. "You have some kind of interest in that? Ah, I suppose it would make sense for someone like you to be interested in sports." By those very words, he seems to be insinuating that Shizuo is all brawn and no intellect – which he suspects is true.

The other man just grinds his teeth into the butt of his cigarette before suddenly taking to his feet. He pauses for a moment to brush himself off before adjusting his sunglasses. After shoving his hands into his pockets, he starts to stalk past Izaya, yet stops abruptly to direct a pointed glare at the dark-haired man who is considerably shorter.

Perhaps Izaya is supposed to take this as a warning. Certainly the leering would be ominous enough to silence anyone else. But for someone with nothing to lose, it hardly has any effect. In fact, he peers back at Shizuo with an equally powerful gaze, as though challenging him.

They remain locked in place for a few moments when suddenly Izaya perceives the blur of Shizuo's arm. He barely manages to react in time, evading a fist that ends up flying just past his ear. The amount of strength behind that blow would have been enough to knock him right off of his feet. Perhaps it is only pure luck that saved him.

Either way, he does not find himself that anxious to maintain distance from Shizuo. On the contrary, the danger lights that would be going off in a normal person's mind seem to have the opposite affect on Izaya. He is drawn in. This feeling is new to him. He has never felt particularly compelled to want to get under someone's skin, but he derives some pleasure from doing it to Shizuo. It reminds him that he is alive. Far more than rolling between the sheets with another person has ever managed.

The momentary stand still as Shizuo digests the fact that someone actually happened to dodge one of his punches ends up being rather short. That cigarette butt precariously resting at the edge of the blonde's lips ends up falling as another punch comes Izaya's way. This one proves far less easy to avoid and Shizuo manages to graze the shorter man's ribs.

Stumbling back and grasping at his side in pain, Izaya chokes out a strangled chuckle. Yes, somehow he does not mind being hit that much. It is not the first time. And it seems a small price to pay in exchange for the anger he sees burning behind those eyes of Shizuo's. More – he wants more.

"I suppose it makes sense," he drawls out, voice tinged with pain as he winces, "That a protozoan like you would only know how to swing their fists."

As those words sink in, Izaya watches the anger intensify. Shizuo takes a lunging step forward and reels his arm back for another punch. This one may be packed with more strength than the last two, yet Izaya hardly contemplates these consequences.

"Stop!" a voice calls out as a woman suddenly saunters up and launches herself at Shizuo. She wrestles him back from attacking Izaya. Mousy brown tresses bounce around her face, appearing a bit disheveled. From behind Shizuo, who she is apparently attempting to restrain, Izaya can also see a turquoise-blue eye peering at him. That gaze of hers almost seems to be accusing but perhaps that is just his perception.

"Celty?" the blonde blurts out in surprise. All traces of anger dissipate and he seems to soften, his arms going limp at his sides. This seems to convince the woman that she can release him without him behaving recklessly.

A sigh of relief passes through her lips as she takes a step back, finally letting him go. "Shinra is looking for you."

Shizuo seems to take in this information with an unreadable expression, but once he has heard it, he immediately turns to leave. As he disappears into the distance, Celty loiters behind. She seems to eye Izaya with both apprehension and curiosity.

He offers her an unconvincing, lopsided grin as he continues to rub the bruise forming on his ribcage. "Your friend has quite the temper."

"Don't bother Shizuo." Unlike most women that Izaya has encountered that seem to instantly take a liking to him, she seems wary. In fact, it almost appears as though she detests him. "He doesn't need problems from someone like you." Spinning on her heel, she leaves and runs to catch up with Shizuo.

Left by himself, Izaya drops his focus to the ground where Shizuo left behind a smashed, half-smoked cigarette on the grass. Somehow any tiredness that he had felt before seems to have subsided. In its place he feels something else. Strange, since his emotional affect has always been dulled. All he knows is that he most likely won't be heeding that woman's – Celty's – advice.

Shizuo Heiwajima... The name of the first person he has ever deemed interesting.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'll dispense with what could otherwise be a long and drawn-out note. Just to mention that there is a high probability of some OOC (trying to stick as close as I can to their personalities) since this is AU. Also rating subject to change.


	2. allure

**chapter zero-two ;; allure**

There is something numbing about the feeling of drifting on a drug-induced high. Izaya has always relished in that sensation. It is the only way he can feel anything. Even if it stifles his emotional affect, he hardly exhibits anything beyond exhaustion and mild curiosity anyways. In the end, his addiction is at once the reason his personality is so warped and the only cure he can find to color his otherwise grey world. Except his addiction seems to have take a sudden turn in an unusual direction.

"Oh! Coming to class two mornings in a row? That must mean Yumacchi was wrong about me scaring you off." Excited that Izaya has managed to drag his weary body to the University again, breaking his usual string of absences, Erika applauds.

He feels restless for some reason. Perhaps it is withdrawals – he has not had the misfortune of experiencing those in some time. But it has been over twenty-four hours since his last hit. The person he stayed with last night was too keenly aware of Izaya's thieving tendencies and had anticipated Izaya peeking into his wallet. Ultimately this left Izaya without a penny and subsequently without a fix.

"Hm? You look tired? Don't tell me a man kept you up all night?" She sounds far more happy about that than she should.

Running his slender fingers through his hair, Izaya slouches forward and almost literally crumbles onto the desk. He settles his head down on his crossed arms. Those eyelids of his feel like lead and he can hardly resist the temptation to grab a few winks before class starts. That means just a few minutes of rest but at this point, he will take anything he can get.

The noise of the chair beside him scraping against the ceramic floor seems muted and distant as Izaya starts easing into sleep. But then a familiar scent tantalizes him and he finds his lashes involuntarily fluttering as he straightens up in his seat. Without even glancing, he can tell that it is Shizuo Heiwajima.

Before he can do anything, Erika is latched onto his arm and whispering in his ear. "Hey, this time, you better be careful. You don't want to make him mad, right? Or is there something between you two?"

He shrugs her off without answering. Something between them? Perhaps a loathing on Shizuo's part and morbid interest for Izaya. Still, he can feel himself perspiring excessively. Why does it feel as hot as sin in here? The dark-haired man sinks back in his seat. His heart feels like it is beating out of his chest. These really are withdrawals aren't they?

"Are you okay?"

Erika's probing manages to get under his skin and it shouldn't. He finds himself snapping back, "Fine." Perhaps it is because he has always insisted on distancing himself from people to keep them from noticing his vulnerability. Particularly given the current circumstances, his first instinct is to run.

Yet suddenly a voice breaks through the cacophony of shoe shuffling, page turning, and boisterous laughter. "Sorry, I'm late again." It seems pretty clear judging by everyone's reaction that her lateness is not something unusual. "B-but don't worry, I'll start right away. Uh... where were we last time?"

Fortunately the start of the lecture is enough to get Erika focusing and off of Izaya's case. That leaves him to suffer in silence, trapped in the middle of the row between two of the most unlikeable people. Shizuo on his left who seems to occasionally scowl in his direction before looking back at the teacher and Erika who peers over at him with a starry-eyed expression. It intensifies the suffocating feeling he is already experiencing.

In the end, he manages to force down his nausea and at least give off the impression that he is at all paying attention to what the teacher is saying. This takes every granule of his willpower and by the time the teacher calls it the end of class and the students start clamoring for the cafeteria, Izaya feels as though he is about to double over.

As soon as Shizuo takes his leave, Izaya at least feels that he can breathe a little easier. But Erika lingers behind, eyeing him with a concerned expression. Either she is perceptive or he is doing a poor job of concealing his condition.

"You look like you're sick or something," she comments. There is a supplementary smile that comes with that but Izaya reads it as pity on her part. "Should I call medical? Or... the professor hasn't left yet. I can go tell her. Ah! That's what I'll do!"

He snatches her wrist before she can make toward the front of the classroom. Beneath his breath his manages to growl out, "None of your business." It hardly seems convincing when his face is contorted in pain but he manages to stand up and stagger out of the aisle, leaving behind a slightly stunned Erika. The dark-haired girl stares after him looking a little saddened.

Had he been in better condition, Izaya might have attempted to con her out of another free lunch. As it is, he thinks the little bit of toast that he had for breakfast is about to come up. With that in mind, he beelines for the bathroom. By the time he makes it there, it is mostly empty. The majority of people seem to be busy in the cafeteria. This proves exceptionally fortunate for him.

Stumbling into one of the stalls, the dark-haired man drops to his knees and empties his stomach before he can even consider how badly his withdrawals have degenerated. He had noticed them last night but had anticipated getting a fix in the morning. When that had not happened... Perhaps he should have exerted more awareness over it. Coming to school this morning was certainly a mistake. He realizes that now as he is emptying his guts out. It is just like him to put no forethought into his actions, to meander blindly with no consideration for the repercussions.

When at last his nausea subsides enough that he feels like he can stand, Izaya takes to his feet and shuffles out of the stall. Much to his surprise, there appears to be an eavesdropper – or more to the point, someone unfortunate enough to have ventured in and stumbled upon him at his most disadvantageous state.

It feels like he's swallowing a boulder when he finds himself staring at his own reflection in a pair of blue-shaded sun glasses. Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, Izaya clamps a hand over his mouth and briskly strides past Shizuo, making his way over to the sink to wash off his face. In his head, he curses what horrible luck he must have to bump into Shizuo in the bathroom of all places – where moments ago he was puking out his insides.

The ice cold water chills his skin as he splashes it against himself. Maybe a part of him thinks that it will wash away his shame and self-loathing, too. But as soon as he finishes and gazes up at the mirror, he easily spots Shizuo who is standing just behind him. That austerity of his is absolutely unnerving.

"What? Something to say?" Izaya taunts sardonically. "Not going to laugh? But aren't you amused? This is far better a punishment than any of the blows you could have dealt me yesterday." A self-deprecating grin surfaces on his face as he furrows his brows at the man he almost seems to consider an opponent.

Rather than respond with words, Blondie just slaps something against Izaya's head and then turns to leave. Feeling particular irate at the gesture already, Izaya's blood boils when he realizes just what it is that Shizuo has given him. A handkerchief? Perhaps some other person might think of it as kindness but Izaya sees it for what it truly is. Crumpling it in his fist, he sends it flying across the room where it flops across the taller man's shoulder.

"I don't want your pity," he snarls bitterly. Without pausing to allow any kind of response, he shoots right past Shizuo and traipses out of the restroom. Before he can get far, Izaya finds a familiar face blocking his path.

"Ah, are you feeling okay? I saw Heiwajima on the way to the cafeteria so I told him about–"

Despite Erika's attempts at explanation, he will not have any of it. Not necessarily because he is inherently an angry person looking to throw the blame out at others. At least he does not think so. It is the withdrawals causing his irritability, he tells himself.

"This is your doing?" he asks accusingly.

The guilt is immediately evident. "Sorry, I just..."

As much as he wants to rail into her about how nosy and unneeded her attempts at assistance are, Izaya can barely even think coherently. Perhaps it is exhaustion from lack of sleep or maybe it is the withdrawals themselves. He can scarcely maintain his composure anymore. Sudden heart palpitations make him keenly aware that he's experiencing a living hell the likes of which he has not encountered in some time.

To some degree it is more exhilarating than the drugs. The anxiousness it causes, the panic; emotions that he is not accustomed to. But Izaya does not relish in this feeling. At the very least he wants to have control. He must have control.

"Izaya-kun?"

That voice is starting to grow distant for some reason. He feels like his consciousness is phasing out on him. Struggling, he tries to maintain his grip on his own awareness but it slips through his fingers like grains of sand. For a moment his eyes flutter and then he can feel himself sinking downward. The last thing he sees is those narrow, chocolate brown eyes glaring down at him, framed by locks of bright blonde hair. Ah, it must be Blondie... He sinks into unconsciousness with that final thought.

When next he opens his eyes, he finds himself blinded by the amber rays of the setting sun as it ducks behind the horizon. Conscious enough to recognize the source of the his misery, he nonetheless is bewildered by his location. Coming out of intense withdrawal symptoms he half-expects to find himself smelling ammonia, staring up from a hospital bed. But that does not seem to be the case.

Indeed, it actually looks like a rather orderly and organized room. A sweeping gaze tells him that much. It still does little to satisfy his wonderment. Certainly it does nothing for the throbbing headache he has been left with. His clothes are damp with sweat and his hands feel somewhat clammy.

The sound of a door opening disrupts his thinking and Izaya immediately snaps his eyes shut on impulse. He tries to give off the impression that he is still unconscious while listening silently to the footsteps as they advance closer, as though the sound of them will be enough for him to figure out who it is. His mind is still reeling by the time the noise of approach ceases. Izaya can sense a shadow cast over him by the person lingering at the bedside.

"You're not asleep," a voice mumbles quietly.

Hearing that voice stirs something inside of him. A grin surfaces on his face as he gradually opens his eyes. Shizuo's figure is blocking the sun which provides him some relief as he slowly sits up. "Oh? You noticed? Impressively perceptive..." His voice trails off, though it is clear he wants to tack on a stinging jab at the end. The situation is too precarious for him to take the opportunity.

"Your breathing was more uneven when you were sleeping," Blondie informs, giving a dismissive motion as he turns and takes a sit on the bed that sits at the opposite side of the room.

"Your apartment?" Izaya guesses.

The other man gives a stiff nod.

"Hm?" His brow quirks. "What intentions could you have in bringing me here? Isn't that a little strange? Normally if someone collapses from drug withdrawal you would take them to a hospital, right? It could have been serious enough that I would have died." Not that Izaya is being critical because he actually resents Shizuo for not taking him to the hospital. On the contrary, he finds himself rather grateful that he does not have to spend any time there. Particularly when that would entail incurring a bill that he hasn't the money to pay for in the first place. Plus the possibility of his parent being contacted.

The blonde seems to be able to read into that easily, despite the fact that he does not look the least bit perceptive. "School policy," he says out of nowhere. "You would be kicked out." Seems a strange thing for him to be concerned about.

"Aw, you don't want me to get kicked out?" Izaya taunts, growing bolder.

Shizuo merely scoffs at him, clearly deeming that suggestion absurd and unworthy of a reply with actual words. Instead he leans back onto the bed and turns over on his side. "Leave whenever." Maybe he intends to go to sleep already? Since the sun is just setting, even though it is still fairly early in fall, it cannot be very late. Seems a little odd to already be drifting off.

"Oh? Is that permission to stay the night?"

Perhaps that is meant to be a way of teasing. Either way, Blondie does not give any reaction. Maybe he has already fallen asleep. Considering how little Izaya thinks of him, that should not be the least bit surprising. Yet he also considers the possibility that maybe there is no answer because it really is okay if he stays the night.

"If you don't answer, I am going to assume consent~" It seems rather shameless of him to press Shizuo to let him stay the night. At the same time, he considers the fact that he has already done a fair bit to humiliate himself so taking it a step further does not seem to matter much.

Again he finds himself met with silence. Is Shizuo really sleeping after all?

"Your roommate won't be happy with you, you know~"

"I don't have a roommate," Blondie finally answers, peering over his shoulder to glower at Izaya. Perhaps he is annoyed at the incessant talk. Not that Izaya is trying purposefully to have any sort of conversation with Shizuo.

Knowledge of that gives Izaya some comfort. Although the withdrawal symptoms have already peaked, it will be some time before they have completely subsided. Dealing with that is enough, let alone if he had to wander the streets trying to hit up random people trying to find a place to stay. That is probably what led him down this whole road to begin with.

Self-denigrating thoughts will get him nowhere. Better to relax with the knowledge that at least for tonight, he has a place to stay. A safe place. He wonders when the last time was that he could breathe a sigh of relief like this.

Having slept for so long, however, he feels a bit restless. His heart is still beating unusually fast and the nausea from earlier still lingers. He can feel the beads of perspiration as they trickle down the length of his forehead, his breathing uneven. On the other bed, Shizuo seems to have drifted off. Izaya can tell that much by the gradual rise and fall of his shoulders since all he has to stare at is the blonde's back.

Still, there is something comforting about having someone whose presence is not so invasive. Just by being there, Shizuo manages to set him at ease. Seems a little ironic considering just yesterday Shizuo was the very person that stirred in Izaya emotions that he had not felt before. It almost makes him feel... human.

Despite the discomfort, he eventually drifts off some time later when darkness has completely infiltrated the room and all remnants of sunshine have disappeared. Later during the night – he is not really sure when, all he knows is that by this time the silvery light of the crescent moon is spilling inside, which happens to illuminate Blondie's face. A face that is far too close – is Shizuo sitting at his bedside? Groggy and still half-asleep, Izaya tries to squint as his head races to make sense of what is happening.

"You're a noisy sleeper," Shizuo informs as though he can sense the other man's confusion.

That in itself should be enough of an explanation but just by the turn of his head, Izaya manages to catch a glimpse of a cloth in the blonde's hands. It appears damp and judging by the way that his face feels a little cooler and slightly less clammy than before, he can easily guess the reason. That seems pretty uncharacteristic of the person he pictured Shizuo to be. Helping someone that he doesn't even know? Wiping their sweat? What is he, some kind of saint? Izaya almost chokes on a dry chuckle.

"Hm?" Completely unaware of what is going through Izaya's head, Shizuo peaks his brows in surprise at the suddenly display.

Perhaps Shizuo is the type of person to give off a gruff exterior but shows some measure of caring deep down. But Izaya suspects that if he says as much, it will only rile the blonde up. Better to keep his thoughts to himself. Thus far his judgments have seemed pretty off anyways.

The nausea takes a sudden turn for the worst as Izaya suddenly feels as though he has been punched in the gut. Jerking upright, he manages to stumble past Shizuo who is crouching at his bedside. His eyes swivel as he tries to see through the dark.

"Bathroom is over there," the blonde pipes in, jabbing a finger in front of Izaya that points the way.

Not pausing to express any manner of gratitude, the dark-haired man takes off immediately in the direction he has been guided. Through the darkness he fumbles but manages to locate the knob. Wrenching the door opens, he stumbles inside without even stopping to feel for the light switch. He finds the toilet easily enough and starts emptying his stomach.

Only a moment later, the entire room fills with blinding light that follows shortly after an audible click. Izaya can already guess that Shizuo is standing behind him. There is a brief sound of a running faucet that he practically ignores. But the reason for it is revealed to him as soon as he flushes the toilet and turns to leave.

Shizuo holds out a damp cloth. "Wipe your face."

Eyes narrowed, Izaya glowers back at him.

"It's not pity." Apparently the other man can easily guess what Izaya is thinking by now.

As unconvincing as those words should be, there is something about the way that Shizuo says them that seems persuasive enough. Believing him for whatever reason, Izaya snatches the cloth out of his hands and hastily presses the soft fabric against his lips. When he is finished, he stares at the person that has been strangely kind enough to help him through all of this. "You have been unusually calm. Wouldn't most people be panicking by now?"

The blonde blinks slowly as though taking in those words. "Mm... seen worse."

Worse? Izaya's head tilts. The curiosity probably shines in his eyes bright enough to make Shizuo uncomfortable. The blonde does not seem the type to appreciate probing inquiries – something that (although neither would want to admit) the two of them have in common.

"Back to bed." Every sentence that Blondie speaks is unexpectedly short, concise and ultimately quite vague. But it is enough to make clear that he does not have any plans on continuing a conversation with Izaya this late at night. He pivots and departs through the threshold of the bathroom, disappearing into the darkness of the main room.

Left behind, Izaya pauses to glance at the wet cloth in his hand. Throughout his entire life he has always relied upon himself and his own means. So it seems strange all of a sudden to have had someone to support him through something this rough. Of all people, that it would be a person he purposefully tried to instigate a fight with. That in itself is not necessarily the most surprising thing. More so is the feeling that Izaya gets that Shizuo is not expecting anything in return. It is that part that confuses him utterly. Altruism is not a concept he believes in; selflessness is just a farce.

At last he sets the cloth down on the counter before flipping the light off. Bathed in the darkness once more, Izaya feels his way out of the bathroom and back to the bed. Flopping over on it, he shuts his eyes but he can scarcely catch a single wink when his mind is still racing. Eventually it is the sound of Shizuo's rhythmic breathing that sets him at ease and lulls him into the grips of unconsciousness.

In the morning he is roused my the sound of bustling bodies just outside of the door of the apartment. Casting a glance around, he sees that Shizuo has already left. An early morning riser? He somehow doubts that but a part of him feels slightly perturbed at being awoken so unceremoniously. Granted that he has not even expressed an ounce of gratitude for having a place to stay in the first place – a bed that he has not been forced to share with another body at the expense of his own.

With a groan he forces his unwilling body to stand and heads toward the bathroom. It is a little startling that at the same moment he reaches for the knob, it suddenly swings open. Standing in the threshold is Blondie, his bleached hair damp from a shower. And there happens to be a nice scent permeating from him.

"Morning," Shizuo greets in a flat tone.

The black-haired man in turn flashes a grin. "Good morning, Hercules."

Being referred to as such probably irritates the blonde, but if it does, he gives no indication. "Shower is open." It almost seems to be an insinuation that Izaya stinks. Probably not how Shizuo intends it – he seems the tactless type. Although given how much sweat has poured out of Izaya's body and the amount of retching he was doing yesterday, a shower could be nothing but beneficial to his hygiene.

Still, there is one problem in particular with this idea. Izaya pinches at the shirt he is wearing; it is far too baggy to fit comfortably. In fact, it almost seems to be slipping off one of his shoulders. Another borrowed item from one of his sleeping "partners."

"Need to borrow clothes?"

Izaya almost cackles at the suggestion. "You see how baggy this is on me already. There is no possibility that someone as big as you would have clothes that wouldn't fall right off of me." It is more intended as a jab but Shizuo does not seem to take it that way.

"Shinra's would fit you," he says thoughtfully to himself. Not that Izaya has any inkling of who this "Shinra" person could possibly be. Shizuo seems to have the matter settled on his mind already though, and he brushes by Izaya, heading straight for the door. "Be back," he gruffly informs before disappearing out into the madness of people outside heading to school and work from their own apartments.

Not that he holds much confidence or trust in Shizuo's words, but Izaya decides on a whim that a shower sounds good after all. Even if he has only these grimy, over-sized rags to wear afterward, better to at least wash away the remnants of the previous day and with it the humiliation and shame he suffered as a result.

Stepping inside the bathroom, he gently nudges the door shut behind him. He proceeds thereafter by peeling off his clothing before stepping into the shower. Fiddling with the knobs, he soon finds himself showered in drops of water cold enough to be daggers. Any normal person might cry out in surprise and shock but it tingles against his skin. It's as numbing as the drugs. He can feel himself craving again. All he wants is that high and the weightlessness that accompanies it.

It seems like forever that he just stands under that stream of endlessly running water, cascading down upon him and washing away the salt of his own sweat. He spots some soap out of the corner of his eyes and lathers up. Ah – the scent. It smells just like Shizuo. Or perhaps more precisely, Shizuo smells exactly like it.

He does not have very long to relish in these feelings before he hears an audible click. Through the curtain he can see a shadow enter and while he would not have assumed it to be anyone else, he can tell by the silhouette that it is Shizuo. Never before has he seen someone quite as hulking and muscular. _He really is a protozoan,_ he thinks sullenly to himself.

Turning off the shower, he pushes the curtain back. It is a little awkward considering he is fully exposed and the blonde is standing there, setting some clothes on the counter for Izaya to wear. Surprisingly, Shizuo does not reveal the least bit of shock when he turns around and sees the shorter man completely unclothed.

Rather, he nonchalantly says, "You can wear those," and then promptly turns to leave.

Almost literally leaping out of the shower, Izaya manages to catch Shizuo's wrist before the latter can leave. "Wait. Are you heading to class now?"

Those eyes, like the color of burnt sienna, gaze back at him languidly. "Mm," grunts the man in response.

"You have heard the rumors about me, haven't you? Is that why you invited me here? You were expecting something in return?" Smirking deviously, Izaya leans forward until their lips are just inches apart. He wants a taste – not of Shizuo himself but he wants to see the reaction. The anger flare across his eyes. Just for that he willingly pushes the limits on someone who he has already imposed upon.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks for the reviews! Hope you liked it. This story is a bit of an odd project but I hope those of you reading will continue to enjoy it as it progresses.


	3. reversion

**chapter zero-three ;; reversion**

By all accounts, any attempts to claim Shizuo's lips on the part of another man should end with a black eye. Any sane person knows better than to attempt, but Izaya is not exactly sound of mind. He feels something of trepidation when he leans in but does not expect to be able to close the gap before meeting the consequences in the form of Shizuo's fist. Yet the sensation of his face collapsing on itself under the pressure of the blonde's clenched hand never comes.

Instead he inches closer and closer before pausing and speaking the very question that plagues him. "Aren't you going to stop me?" Perhaps it would make more sense for him not to ask but the curiosity nags at the back of his mind.

Those brown eyes just stare emptily back at him. "Finished?" It is almost as though Shizuo can tell that Izaya is not being serious. He can see through the ruse. It is at once a relief and frustrating all the same. Most people fall so easily into the trap, most are so predictable. Why does Shizuo, of all people, have to be the one to defy this?

Losing interest, Izaya releases Shizuo and pulls back. "You ruined the fun."

The blonde in turn remains completely unresponsive but takes the opportunity to leave the bathroom without saying so much as a word. It does not seem as though he is particularly perturbed; in fact, he gives the impression of being entirely unaffected. This proves slightly disappointing to Izaya, who had expected an explosive response. Obviously this is not the way to go to get the kind of reaction that he wants. He will have to try from a different angle.

Left to his own devices, Izaya quickly dries himself off before dressing down in the attire provided by Shizuo. It proves to be much more form fitting than what he has worn as of late, which makes him curious. Who could the blonde have borrowed these from? Certainly someone like Shizuo does not strike him as the type to have any sort of entourage. Then he recalls the name that the Celty girl mentioned. _Shinra._ Exactly the same name that Shizuo had mentioned just half an hour earlier.

His mind is occupied trying to weave the pieces together as he steps out of the bathroom. The hair on his head does not seem to have been dried adequately. Water still drip-drops down onto the fabric of his t-shirt, though he pays such details little heed. His eyes are immediately roaming the room in search of Shizuo.

It seems, however, that the blonde has already left for class. A quick glance at the clock tells Izaya that it is already time. A trill of laughter erupts from his throat as he mutters under his breath, "How unpredictably punctual. That's cute." Although the reality is that he is scarcely amused so much as utterly bored.

The withdrawals have taken a toll on his psyche. Moreover the pangs of craving have not left him. He can feel the voice of his addiction whispering in the back of his head, urging him. The void within him demands to be filled. And thus far the only way he has discovered to alleviate his suffering is the drugs. Had he been in a better mindset the night before, he might have groped around in the dark and swiped some money out of Blondie's wallet. Alas, Shizuo is probably not daft enough to leave for school and neglect to take such a possession along with him.

It does not hurt to check, Izaya reasons, and so he starts rummaging. The dresser drawers are just filled with clothes. The closet appears fairly scarce. Almost nothing of value. Not until he comes to the table resting between the two beds does he find something at least worthy of mention. It's an old watch with a fractured glass face. While not entirely intact, it is an expensive brand worth poaching. Yet something holds him back.

He dismisses the possibility of being sentimental. Even though it must be a keepsake that Shizuo apparently treasures. Izaya just reasons to himself that it probably is not worth the bother, moreover that he owes Blondie for his hospitality. At the very least he can repay that by not swiping his things. (A logic that other people might find a little warped.)

So if stealing is not going to get him the fix he needs, Izaya knows there will have to be some other way. The easiest is probably to hit up one of his regulars. Most of them are not exactly clean, and at the very least maybe he can wheedle a little bit of cash out of them. It's as good a plan as any.

For the first time in a while he looks almost healthy. Despite experiencing a somewhat restless night, the bags beneath his eyes have lightened enough that they are hardly even visible. Plus his clothes are clean and contour much better to his body than the usual baggy wear he bums off of the random men that he sleeps with.

Not that his appearance ends up proving very useful in procuring money from the first few apartments that he visits. One nervously turns him away without explanation, but Izaya figures it out himself. He knows the smell of sex well. And he can guess the man probably has his girlfriend over. The same one that is probably completely unaware of her partner's forays into gay clubs and bars at night. The very place that Izaya met the man.

Just as he is about to leave that apartment and meander the streets trying to figure out another one to visit, he gets an idea. Isn't this the perfect blackmail material? Plus the perfect opportunity to cause havoc; punishment for the man carelessly turning him away.

Izaya pivots and heads straight back to the door that he had rapped at moments ago. This time he has a slick smile on, belying his evil intent as he knocks once again. This time much softer than the last. His expression almost seems pleasant.

There is a momentary pause and Izaya can almost sense the man glaring through the peephole before tugging the door open again. "I told you I'm busy," he growls out in a low voice. "You can come back tonight if you want."

"It might not be a good time for you but it's the best time for me," Izaya croons back. "Or don't you want your girlfriend to remain oblivious and unaware? I don't know if I can keep it a secret~"

The man scowls immediately. "The fuck you trying to do?"

Izaya rubs his fingers together, "Money."

"Who is at the door?" An unfamiliar but noticeably feminine voice calls from inside.

Almost instantaneously the man has a panicked look on his face, his shoulders tensing visibly. This gives Izaya a twisted sense of satisfaction, lifting his eyes questioningly at the man. It is a challenge. Does he really want to be found out? Or will he just give the money? Izaya finds himself curious as to the direction this is likely to take. It is the only thing he can do to satiate his boredom in lieu of a much needed hit.

There is a moment of hesitation. "Fine I'll get your goddamn money but you better never come back here." An overt threat – how charming.

A smirk surfaces as he loiters; impatiently waiting while the gears of his mind turn in overdrive. By the time the man comes back with a wad of cash in hand, Izaya has fully formed his scheme and puts it into play. He waits for the door to swing outward just a fraction wider and the man to hold out the money toward him. With a swift step forward, he grasps the money with one hand, with the other he holds the door firmly ajar. Then he leans in before the man can pull away. Unlike this morning's failed attempt with Shizuo, Izaya hits his mark and their lips collide roughly. In the few seconds it takes for the other person to register what is happening, Izaya manages to prod his mouth open and for a second their tongues brush. Then as he notices the shock registering on the man's face, he withdraws. Not fast enough to avoid a rather shallow bite on the edge of his lower lip that leaves a thin stream of blood trickling down his chin.

"The fuck..."

"What's going on? What the hell are you doing?" the woman demands from just behind the man, interrupting their interaction before it can escalate.

Izaya manages to yank the money free and tuck into his pocket, tapping the pad of his thumb against the wound on his face. The acrid taste of copper rolls over his tongue. Yes, this is exactly the kind of reaction he had been anticipating from Shizuo but had not received. Although it does occur to him that perhaps he had not pushed Shizuo far enough to produce the desired response.

"Ah," Izaya says suddenly, his eyes lingering on the female. "So you won't kiss me if your girlfriend is here? Shame. You were so open when I was here a few nights ago. Well, have fun. Ciao." He gives a mocking salute and a snigger before setting off – not unlike a retreating cat who has already poached its next meal and is running for cover.

Behind him he can hear the explosion of conflict that occurs between the man and his girlfriend. It elicits another trill of laughter as Izaya descends a staircase and dips his hand back into his pocket, producing the wad of cash. He flips through it and silently counts. The amount is not exactly satisfactory to but he can hardly complain when it was this easy to come by. Alas, it leaves him one less "customer" – though he is not exactly hurting for those, anyways.

Equipped with some money, he sets off for the house of a man he knows to be a dealer. With this much he can at least satisfy his cravings for the day. And in the future he will have to ensure much better control over his intake so as not to fall short and end up squirming with withdrawals again. Certainly not one of his more memorable experiences. Although, on second though, it did provide some interesting interactions with Blondie.

Izaya clicks his tongue at the very thought. Even he knows that he is acting out of character. What is with the obsession with the blonde? It is all nonsense. Nonsense that will be cleared up as soon as he gets his fix.

That day, he skips all of his classes. He is flying higher than a kite and suspects that even the teachers could point out his drug abuse before he even enters the campus. So he stays at the dealer's place and manages to coax out a deal from the man. Sex in exchange for a place to stay for the night. Yes, this is what he is used to. This is how he lives his life. Things are starting to return to normal. It has not been that way since he first encountered the blonde. Something about that had shaken him, made him stray from his path. No longer, though.

This is how he spends most nights. How he will continue to spend most nights. What is the point of going back home, anyways? Perhaps if he had a loving, caring home. A home with some promise of a better tomorrow. But that is not what awaits him. And never in his years of growing up has he had an adequate role model that inspired him to strive and be a better person.

To Izaya Orihara, life is merely a struggle to survive. Then why not find the easiest means to do that? And, for that matter, why not make your time here as pleasurable as you can? Yet in the back of his mind he realizes how big of a lie he is living.

This isn't really happiness. He is not truly satisfied.

By the next morning, he takes another long drag before leaving. He manages to sneak a shower in before setting off but his clothing reeks of cigarette smoke. As he walks, he pinches at his shirt and presses it to his nose. A deep inhale later and he almost finds himself choking. It is pungent enough to knock him off his feet; cloying at his inside, burning the hair inside his own nostrils. Like vinegar or worse; he is not really sure how it can be described except heavy and suffocating. Must be the heroin, although he had not anticipated the stench to linger and soak into his clothing.

It does not bother him enough that he considers doubling back. Izaya maintains his direction and enters the campus. Despite the fact that the evidence of his misdoings is clear by how his pupils have contracted, besides the smell, he continues inside completely unfazed.

Once he settles in his chair beside Erika, he can feel himself relax. A sort of drowsiness settles in. Ah, yes – this is what he is accustomed to. One of the more immediate effects besides feeling much happier. The grogginess that later accompanies it, too. He feels back to normal. Although anyone else could point out that this definition of "normal" is far too excessive.

Erika makes a note of such. "Izaya-kun? You okay? You look like you're on something..."

"Hm?" His brows lift questioningly at her.

"I wondered if you were okay since you didn't come yesterday. Heiwajima wouldn't tell me anything."

The blonde does not seem the type to be very responsive. No surprise there. Izaya merely gazes emptily back at the girl without ever really answering her question. His brain is not quite functioning at the optimum level to be able to provide her with anything coherent anyways.

"Are you okay now?" she clarifies finally.

A nod is enough to satisfy her.

"Oh. Well, you should come to lunch with us today. You seemed a little bored last time but I think you would have fun with Yumacchi and Dotachin." A grin spreads across her lips. Too blithe to pick up the obvious signs of Izaya's drug abuse. Or perhaps she does not care. He assumes the latter.

"Sure," he coos back, "Sounds like fun." Although that is probably not so much him talking as the drugs.

It is just a few short moments later when there comes the clatter of a chair moving beside Izaya. He does not even have to turn his head to know that Blondie is settling down beside him. But Blondie is a wee bit more perceptive than Erika. At this point, even though Izaya realizes and acknowledges that, he has not the mind to try to avoid Shizuo.

Before he can even turn his chin and recite a greeting, a hand claps down on his shoulder. "It stinks," Shizuo growls. The black-haired man finds himself jerked around by some incredible display of strength. Then suddenly the blonde is leaning down in his face and there is only inches between them. They stare back at each other. It is impossible for Shizuo to have missed all the signs by now. He has probably already confirmed it in his mind.

"That's some rough handling," Izaya comments dryly.

Shizuo's eyes flicker for a moment as though he has also noticed the mark left behind on Izaya's lips from his little... interaction yesterday. But Blondie does not seem to be at all concerned about that. Instead he lifts Izaya into the air by the collar of his shirt and before a collective gasp can even ring through the classroom, a tightly clenched fist pummels Izaya in the gut several times. It feels like his lungs are flattened as all the air escapes. He chokes as he tries to inhale desperately, feeling as though he is suffocating. Then another one comes flying at his face.

Even though the drugs have dulled Izaya's senses well enough and the punches certainly have not helped the haze over his mind to subside, he has enough to wits to know he does not want to be hit again. Plus the shirt is still just a size too big, meaning that even as Shizuo grasps at a fistful of it, Izaya is nearly slipping out of it. He manages to clamp his mouth down on the blonde's fingers. Blood bursts across his tastebuds – enough to make him gag but he holds steadfast.

Neither of them seems entirely right in the head – and it takes the teacher bursting through the doors to wake them up. "What's going on here?!"

Slowly Shizuo lowers his fist and at the same time he releases his grasp from Izaya's collar, causing him to drop down. This time he has enough of his bearings to be graceful, balancing on the balls of his feet rather than collapsing against his chair.

Wiping the blood dripping from his mouth with his sleeve, he turns toward the teacher with a smile that seems almost sinister. "Ah, just a minor disagreement. You shouldn't mind it too much. After all, you're always late, aren't you? Thought we'd give the class a pinch of street entertainment."

"Leave immediately!" she squeals in disapproval. Her face flares a hideous red as she jabs her finger in the direction of the doors.

Contrary to Izaya's caustic remarks, Shizuo keeps his mouth shut and obediently straightens his chair before heading out of the classroom. In turn Izaya tags along behind him but not before sending a cryptic wink in the direction of their teacher. A veiled warning that she may not even recognize.

As soon as they are out in the hallway, which by now is mostly deserted since most students are already in class, Shizuo suddenly stops. He does not turn to face Izaya but merely mutters – almost inaudibly – one word, "Why?"

"Hm? Is that a bird chirping? I can't quite tell," Izaya purrs derisively, stepping up beside the blonde and shooting him a knowing glance.

This earns him a contemptuous glare. "Why bother helping you," Shizuo elucidates, "If you were going to come back like this." He ends it not with an inflection indicating a question but evenly as though he is narrating his own thoughts.

"Ah, so that was what you were hoping for," Izaya clarifies. "How laudable of you; since I was so pitiable you thought you would reach out your hands to help me. You must have felt so good in the morning to think you helped someone in need. But what a pity to find me back here the next day, higher than the clouds in the sky. Is that what you're thinking?"

Shizuo does not have to say; Izaya already knows. Or more correctly, he _thinks_ that he knows.

"I am disappointed," Izaya sighs though it is clear that he has already anticipated this much. At this point he is just mocking Shizuo. "The high and mighty Shizuo Heiwajima thinks he can waltz in and fix things but what to do? I am not a broken toy in need of repair." He leans closer just to press Shizuo off the edge. "Ah, but if you want to have fun some time, I wouldn't mind too much. As long as you have money." He supplies this with a suggestive wiggle of his brows.

Almost on cue a fist comes swinging his way but he manages to evade it, this time having seen it coming in advance. To be sure, he puts several more feet between them just so he is not disadvantaged in case Shizuo decides to come at him again.

"Ah-ah!" he wags his finger in dismay. "No more target practice, Shizu-chan."

Izaya can see the anger visibly flare in Shizuo's eyes and it delights him. Yes – yes, that's it. More anger. He wants to see more. Experience those emotions that he cannot feel. Stir in him more of these sensations that he has never experienced. This is as much an addiction as the heroin is. In fact, he thinks he prefers this to any drug.

Shizuo reaches for the nearest thing – which turns out to be a chair – and comes charging. It is bulky enough that it should slow him down and yet he lifts it like there is no weight to it at all. Yet Izaya knows better than to linger and take chances on being able to dodge again.

He scurries around the corner, narrowly missing the object being hurled out at him. Cackling to himself, he jets out of the building before his encounter with Shizuo can degenerate any further And he supposes afternoon classes are out of the question. In fact, he somehow suspects that his enrollment as a whole might be in question if his teacher reports the violent incident earlier.

But that hardly matters now. His eyes avert to the pavement as he recalls the whole reason he came.

_"What would make you proud of me?"_

_ "A college degree. Go to a nice university. Graduate. I would be proud of you then."_

What a scam. Why did he even bother? Yet those words echo in his head, haunting him. On the outward, he seems a callous and aloof person who is just personable enough to manipulate others. Yet on the underneath – his insides are twisted and gnarled like the branches of an oak tree.

It is several nights later, after he has skipped class for days on end, that he receives a call on his cell phone from the school. They "need to talk" to him about something. Being kicked out, he suspects. It hardly sounds like a promising meeting but he schedules it nonetheless. And the day after he is back at that campus, vividly recalling what happened the last time he was here – his encounter with Shizuo.

Time seems to have passed so quickly since then. Yet in his head, the memory is pristine enough that it feels as though it happened moments ago. No matter, for the odds of meeting the blonde after that are probably not the most promising. For that he does feel a little unsatisfied.

"Hello, Orihara-san."

The smile he gives is pleasant enough, if not a bit unsettling. "Good afternoon."

Accommodating his friendliness, she returns the gesture politely and also bows her head. "Sorry to call you all the way here. I hope it is not too out of your way." This does not seem the start of a conversation about booting him. If not, then what else could it be about?

His brows furrow in suspicion. "No trouble," he dismisses quickly, eager to discover what this whole thing is really about.

"Alright, well, the mail we sent you a couple of weeks ago just came back. Has your address changed? It seems as though someone else is living at this address now? Is that correct?" Although she already knows, judging from the writing on the envelope, she is trying to give him a chance to confirm it.

Izaya is equally surprised, although he does not show it. Instead he acts completely casual and off-handed about it. "If that's what it says, then I suppose so. I must not live there anymore." It sounds almost as though he is talking about something completely unrelated to him.

_So the crone picked up and moved somewhere else, huh?_ He thinks grimly to himself.

"I see. Then where are you living now?"

Well, that certainly is an interesting question, given that he does not really have a stable home. "Ah, can't we forego all of that? I can come pick up my mail. I don't exactly have an address..."

The woman nods as though being understanding, which completely belies what follows. "I see your attendance has also been pretty poor as of late. I suspect that contributes to your grades."

"I assume you have a point to bringing that up since it's completely unrelated to my living quarters?"

"They most certainly are related," she objects. "If you do not have a stable place to stay it makes quite clear why your grades are suffering and you are doing poorly in class. A disruption was reported just a few days ago, as well." Oh. So that did not go completely unnoticed after all.

All of this is sobering. The smile disappears from his face, his expression growing more grave. "So? Are you proposing I drop my classes and respectfully leave so as not to tarnish the lovely little reputation that your prestigious university enjoys?" Obviously he is talking down to her – it is not particularly prestigious and it is not as though one bad apple will be enough to sour a patch as big as the one here anyway.

"No," she says, "That's not what I'm saying at all. In fact, I called you here to help you."

He almost chokes on the very notion. Someone help him? Should he be laughing? Is this the punchline to some kind of joke that he is unaware of?

"Since it is clear that your living situation is a bit precarious, I think you can file for government assistance and at least live at the apartments just beside the university for a nominal fee. Does that not have some appeal to you? In return, all that is asked is for you to pass your classes with above average grades and attend regularly."

No, actually, he is not very interested. In fact, that seems like a waste of his time. He contemplates dropping out instead. But perhaps this bears some consideration. "A room here, huh? To myself?"

"Well, not 'here,' exactly," she corrects.

Nonetheless, he understands the implications. And then it occurs to him – Shizuo lives in the apartment building that she is referring to. His eyes widen. "Hm. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad."

The woman smiles back at him, pleased to have come to an agreement. Of course, she is completely oblivious to his ulterior motives in accepting.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thank you for the lovely reviews! :D Hopefully those of you reading continue to enjoy the story. Going to try to update every Sunday from now on as that works best with my schedule. (Also changed the summary to better reflect the story, hopefully.)


	4. intrigue

**chapter zero-four ;; intrigue**

Izaya has never considered himself particularly lucky, but perhaps it is not a stroke of good luck that lands him in the room just beside Shizuo's. Perhaps it is something else entirely. Chance? Fate? He does not care, whatever the case. All he knows is that he will certainly remember the number four-zero-four – in faded, silver letters on the front of his door.

The whole place looks rather dilapidated now that he takes a better look at it. A critical eye sweeping over the front of the building is enough for anyone else to pass it off as dreary and falling apart. Surely someday soon they will take a wrecking ball to it and put in something more suitable and appropriate. Laughable, Izaya thinks, because when the woman at the college told him "nominal fee," she wasn't kidding.

After inserting the key into the knob, he gives a prompt twist and there is an audible click. Although he does not have anything in his hands – no worldly possession with which to concern himself – Izaya nudges the door open with his foot rather than use his hands. Once inside, he immediately notices how stuffy the whole place is. Window – he needs to open one and bring in some fresh air.

A gust of wind almost blows him back but it feels good when he takes a deep breath. Ah – crisp and cool. No surprise since the sun is already starting to descend and night is rapidly racing in to take over. This will be the first time he will ever fall asleep in a place that he can call home. Not that he really intends to ever call any place home. But maybe this is the closest thing to it.

Certainly it affords him the luxury of lingering close to Blondie – who probably will not be the most appreciative of it. Not that Izaya has ever minded the feelings of other people even as he has imposed on them. Shizuo is no exception. In fact, he derives pleasure out of all the blonde's reactions.

Now that the place no longer feels suffocating, he can close the door. Although there is no point in that. He does not even have a futon, let alone a bed. Not even a pillow or a blanket. Going out to purchase one would prove cumbersome, not to mention the fact that he has not the money to spare for it. Perhaps this should be some cause for alarm but he hardly gives the impression of someone with any worries. In fact, there is a subtle curl to the corner of his lips.

Only a moment later he finds himself standing in front of Shizuo's door. And several knocks later, he finds two dark brown eyes boring into him. "You could at least try to smile at your neighbor," Izaya teases with a wry grin.

"Neighbor," Shizuo echoes as though he does not understand the implications of this. When he does, it almost looks as though someone has slapped him. It takes all of Izaya's willpower not to cackle in turn at how amusing the blonde's expression is.

"That's right. And since you seem to like charity cases, I thought you might have a blanket to lend. Just for the night." Although he obviously cannot resist the opportunity to take a dig at Shizuo, regardless of the fact that he is actually the one asking for a favor. He seems to disregard that tidbit as though deeming it unimportant.

Much to the shorter man's surprise, the door ends up slamming in his face. The gust of air leaves him clenching his eyes shut. A moment later he clicks his tongue in disapproval. Really, that brute has no sense of hospitality. But honestly, he had not expected to be given any sort of handout – his true purpose was just roughing the blonde up some. It leaves him with the only feeling of satisfaction he has ever experienced.

Since he has been abruptly turned down, there is little to do but sleep on the floor and hope for the best. Tomorrow he can venture out and spend the night hunting for some customers for food supply and money for a blanket. If he spends the night out, he can probably earn...

As he turns and heads back to his apartment door, slowly counting it out on his fingers, there is an audible click behind him. Before Izaya can even turn to see what it is about, he has something heavy suddenly tossed over his head and everything goes black.

"No rush returning it," Shizuo says gruffly. Then slams the door shut again.

Although his kindness is a little rough around the edges, Izaya is somewhat startled that the blonde even bothers. Was their last encounter not enough to leave behind bitter hatred? How can Blondie still continue with this farce? Obviously lending this blanket will earn him nothing in return. Izaya is not the type to "repay" debts that he owes. Even "thank you" seems almost too much to utter. It is as though the words invoke a vulnerability that Izaya refuses to show.

But he does find his gaze lingering on Shizuo's door for some time after he manages to pry the blanket off of his head. It is rather nice and heavy enough to keep him from getting chilled during the night. When he gets back inside his apartment, he huddles underneath it and falls asleep quickly enough.

In the morning he rouses to the sound of a fist beating against his door. At least, that's what he thinks it is. The other alternative is some kind of monstrous beast beating itself against the whole building. From the sound, this is also a distinct possibility. And he is not entirely off by either account when he peeks out and sees that it is Shizuo.

The blonde is dressed for school with a bag slung over his shoulder. And when the door opens just as he is poised to beat on it again, Shizuo retracts his hand and scratches at the back of his neck. "School," he says. But why is he bothering Izaya about that?

A quirked brow is not enough to prompt an answer as the blonde just silently waits while Izaya stares him down. He wants to ask what part of "school" is pertinent enough to wake him up this early in the morning but he suspects that Shizuo is not aware of his streak of absences. "I suppose I could attend morning class," he mumbles reluctantly.

"Okay," answers Shizuo.

That seems rather vague. "Do you mean to go with me?" Izaya inquires, just to clarify.

There is a rather dumbfounded nod that comes in return. Now it is Izaya's turn to wonder what kind of drugs Shizuo must be on. Obviously strong enough to knock any bitterness from the last interaction far away. Why would he initiate this association of his own accord? Is he nuts? Does he not realize how exceptionally unfair and cruel Izaya has – quite intentionally – been to him? What a fool. Yet not an unlikeable one.

"Alright. Hold on a moment." Izaya closes the door and heads off to the bathroom. He runs the tooth brush over his teeth at least before he leaves. It is only that single hygienic tool that he can count amongst his possessions. Once he is finished, it is shoes on and out the door. Side-by-side they walk, Shizuo with his hands tucked into his pockets and Izaya with clothes he has worn three days in a row. But at least he has showered.

The way to school, albeit short, seems like as good an opportunity as any for small talk. This "small talk" is not something Shizuo is probably accustomed to but Izaya makes frequent use of. Particularly when he is trying to wheedle money out of people. Although these circumstances are different, he suspects the same strategies and rules apply. But there is something nagging at the back of his mind that makes him curious. What better idea than to ask?

"Hey, Shizu-chan–"

"Shizuo," the man clarifies with a growl.

Izaya lifts a brow in turn but accepts the correction. "_Shizuo. _What are you doing living in such a rundown apartment? A little birdy told me that you have some kind of association with the mafia. Shouldn't you be living the high life?"

The blonde gives no indication that there is any truth to this. He does not pause in surprise or bulk at the suggestion that he has been involved in illegal activities. In fact, he seems to consider the question genuinely. "Not the mafia," he says finally, as though this is some kind of satisfactory answer. In all actuality, it answers absolutely nothing. At the very least it does not satisfy Izaya's curiosity... to a mild degree.

"Hm? Then a gang? By what other name would you have me call it?" He has to stop himself from tacking 'Shizu-chan' on at the end of the sentence. Really, it is a cute nickname – why does Blondie mind it so much? Or maybe he would not mind being called "Blondie."

A grunt is the only response he gets in acknowledgment of his question. Then it redirects back at him. "What about you?" It seems less like a question and more like an accusation. Shizuo does not even have to explain what he means; they both know by now about the rumors floating around the school.

Izaya considers lying but there hardly seems any harm in being honest. Plus, he wants to see the reaction he receives when he is straightforward. If Shizuo wants to ask the question, surely he can handle the truth? So he tells him, "Yeah. It's probably all true."

Astonishingly, Shizuo does not even seem to cringe at the notion that Izaya sleeps with other men for money. Then again, he has seen him at his worst – high from heroin and then bent over a toilet barfing his guts out. What more is there? If addiction and promiscuity are not enough, perhaps Shizuo is not bothered by anything.

When they arrive in class they take their usual seats. Izaya ends up beside Erika, whose expression is quite telling. She looks like a balloon about to burst – she can barely contain her curiosity at seeing the two of them waltz in together.

"You haven't been here in a while," she reminds him.

He shrugs.

"But you came in with Heiwajima, huh?" A grin spreads across her lips. That expression makes him feel a little uncomfortable. As much as she gives off the appearance of a harmless otaku, there seems an undercurrent of mischief beneath her words and actions.

"Fantasizing about something?" he assumes, without ever specifying. Izaya can already guess what it is that she is mentally picturing, from the tendril of drool that trickles out the side of her mouth as she gazes dreamily at him.

Wiping her chin, she giggles. "Ah, I'm not as weird as you make me sound."

He grants her a skeptical quirk of the brow. "Is that so..."

"Well, that's not important," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "I thought for sure that the two of you would receive some kind of disciplinary action if you weren't kicked from the school entirely. Violence is very serious, you know. So did you get called in? What happened? How come you guys can just sit there calmly beside one another?"

Izaya suspects that the one reason that Shizuo has not flung him halfway across the room is because the blonde has a natural calm tendency. It is just the fiery temper of his that launches him into uncontrollable rages. There are certainly buttons that require pushing in order for that to happen, however. And for the moment Izaya has been avoiding pressing them. Surely if he had come in high as a kite again, Shizuo would be breathing down his neck rather than sitting there calmly and staring quietly at the empty chalkboard.

He also notices that Blondie seems to have cut back on his smoking. Not a single cigarette on the way to school, and certainly not one now that they are seated. Odd, he thinks, because Shizuo does not seem the one who can easily curb temptation. No, he seems like a rather weak-willed individual. But maybe Izaya has misjudged him again.

"Izaya-kun?"

"Hm?" he grunts back in disinterest.

Erika glowers at him for ignoring her slew of questions. It is more like an interrogation, although she probably does not realize it. "You could at least pretend to pay attention, you know. It's no wonder the teacher doesn't like you."

"I don't mind."

"Yeah, I gathered that already," she replies with a sigh.

Being liked or not – that has never been something that he has concerned himself with. It is just a coincidental factor that most people seem to like him; moths drawn to the flame, so to speak. Certainly he is as equally dangerous to other people as his own addictions are to his health. Perhaps that seems like an overstatement but Izaya cannot shake his habit of toying with others for his own amusement. With such dulled emotions, he has to do something exciting to elicit pleasure.

"Hey, Shizu-cha – _Shizuo,_ that is," he corrects, remembering Shizuo's earlier fuss about being called by that nickname. "You are going to the cafeteria for lunch, right?"

The blonde peers over slowly at Izaya and his lips remain pursed – motionless, even. It seems as though he will not even answer but perhaps he is just evaluating the possibility. At last he says, "No." Then a thought seems to cross his mind and his brows raise a fraction. "No... I will go for lunch." Although he does not seem particularly pleased about it.

"Ah, good, good. See, Erika-chan already offered to buy us lunch." Grinning, he makes a motion toward the girl sitting beside him with his thumb.

Shizuo seems quite surprised by this revelation.

"What? I didn't exactly volunteer–" she tries to interrupt.

Izaya easily clamps his hand over her mouth to silence her, all the while directing an innocent smile at the blonde seated beside him. "She hopes you will accept. It would be rude to turn down a kind girl such as Erika-chan, after all." This reasoning seems absurd to the girl, who is currently glaring daggers at the man whose salty palm she can taste on her lips.

"I can't," Shizuo answers back almost immediately, ruining the light-hearted moment. Moreover, he does not make any attempts to provide any further explanation. All he leaves the two with is a refusal.

Erika promptly peels Izaya's hand from her face and sulks in her chair. "At least if you are going to try to wheedle a free meal out of me, you should do better about bribing him. He didn't even consider it." She pouts.

Rather than being disappointed, Izaya is curious. "Why not?" he asks Shizuo immediately, ignoring Erika's chiding.

"Celty is bringing lunch."

Izaya recalls the girl he saw on the same day he first met Shizuo. "Ah, your girlfriend?"

The blonde's eyes immediately widen a noticeable fraction. "No," he immediately blurts out in denial.

"You know, they say you shouldn't protest too much~ If you have a cute girlfriend, you should fess up, Shizu-chan." Ah, he has slipped again. He can only hope that Shizuo does not feel too perturbed at his use of that nickname.

But the blonde completely ignores it in favor of explaining the situation. "Celty is with Shinra."

"Oh? Does that mean you're single?"

Shizuo resumes his usual steel demeanor, averting his eyes to the clock on the distant wall. "I guess."

As though this is a direct invitation, Erika decides to butt in. "Aren't you single too, Izaya-kun?"

"Hm. I wonder if you would consider this single?" he says thoughtfully.

"W-wait, what are you insinuating by that?" Judging by the things she is clearly imagining, it is a miracle she keeps from having a massive nosebleed. Izaya can almost see it playing in her eyes like a reel of film.

He chuckles in delight at her expressive reactions. "If you have some money, Erika-chan, you can be my girlfriend for a little while."

The sudden screech of a chair interrupts their banter as Shizuo suddenly stands up. Judging by the expression on his face, he seems quite perturbed. That moment in which he appears almost livid passes rather quickly and suddenly he is stone-faced again.

"Shizu-chan? Where are you going?"

"Shizuo," he corrects. "Going to smoke."

Izaya grins wryly. So the blonde caught it that time, huh? It also occurs to him that Shizuo's timing to leave for a smoke is too coincidental. Is he bothered by Izaya selling himself? That seems absurd to even consider. Blondie has no more connection with Izaya than Erika – college classmates. The only thing that separates the two is that Izaya is now Shizuo's neighbor. No cause for either of them to express anything more than superficial concern for one another.

The blonde does end up returning later on, though quite a while after class has already started. And he does not even bother to so much as glance in Izaya's general direction. Rather, the two sit with minimal distance between them without ever exchanging another word.

When lunch time rolls around and Shizuo starts to get up, Izaya deems it a suitable time to interject. "Say, Shizu-chan – ah, _Shizuo_, that is." He catches himself again although he has already made the faux pas, not that he seems really bothered by the slip-up. "Let me tag along with you, hm? This Celty-chan makes pretty good food, right? Can't you share with me~"

"You want to eat Celty's food?" Shizuo clarifies with an unreadable expression – something between confusion and disgust.

Izaya tilts his head questioningly. "What? Can't I?"

"Hm," Shizuo frowns but then shrugs his shoulders. "I don't care."

The two end up walking together, arriving at the cafeteria which is already bustling. Being at least a head shorter than Shizuo, Izaya can scarcely see over the crowds of people. Where is Blondie even going? He seems to be more or less mindlessly meandering rather than heading for a specific destination.

But somehow they do end up at a table. It also appears to already be preoccupied, by a man in glasses that gives both of them a charming smile. "Hey, Shizuo. Who is this? A friend? You made a friend in one of your classes?" He almost seems shocked.

"No. Not a friend. Neighbor."

"Ah, he really isn't very eloquent with words, is he?" Izaya sighs. "And not a friend? I am hurt by how much distance you try to put between us. Have you not heard of the story about the girl who walked seven steps with God and called him friend?" Although he cannot recall the specifics of that story – so maybe it does not precisely relate to this situation. But the blonde probably does not know any better, anyways.

"Are you referring to that folktale from India?" The man in glasses asks with interest.

"Yeah, that one." Not that he is really certain but if the other guy knows more about it, then Izaya is willing to concede the point. "Oh – but I don't even know your name. I am Izaya Orihara."

"Shinra Kishitani," the other man replies in turn with a lofty grin. He seems far more sociable than Blondie.

"Kind of strange for you to invite the very guy you were landing punches on the other day," another voice suddenly chimes in as the woman known as Celty settles down in the seat across from Shizuo. With a noisy thud, she slams a lunch box in the middle of the group. With a disgruntled look, she sits back and folds her arms over her chest. Apparently she does not approve of Izaya.

"Oh? So it's _that_ Izaya Orihara, huh?" Shinra chuckles pleasantly, despite hinting at the rumors that he has heard.

"He wanted to eat your cooking, Celty," Shizuo explains as he reaches for the lunch box.

That news does not seem to make her glaring any less severe but Izaya tries not to mind it much. "I take it my reputation proceeds me. But you don't have to worry. I don't have any designs on anyone here. That is, unless you have the interest and the money." He grins at them.

Shizuo just seems to ignore it while Shinra laughs it off. Celty only appears increasingly annoyed at this revelation but she does not make a comment. Certainly it is far more chilly at this table than it would have been had he tagged along with Erika.

No matter; the blonde has already sorted out the three layers of the lunch box and there is more than enough for them to share. Shinra retrieves some chopsticks for them and they start to dig in. Izaya's first bite informs him as to why Shizuo's earlier behavior was not very encouraging and why his face has a slightly green hue. Izaya himself almost gags on it. Not just the flavor but the texture – this stuff is almost toxic. He is rather dumbstruck to see Shinra shoveling it in with a gleeful look. The guy cannot be human if he derives any sort of fulfillment from this crap.

Although he can scarcely take a jab at the glaring brunette with two of her best friends sitting there, Izaya shoots her a telling look in response to the constant sneering that she has been directing at him. And it seems that the two have established a mutual contempt. Although his is in large part because he fears spending the rest of the day in the bathroom after eating this.

Later after they have finished eating and he feels almost nauseous, both Celty and Shinra bid a hasty goodbye as they hurry to their next class. Shizuo seems to loiter, casting the occasional glance down at the breast pocket of his shirt. No doubt where he is keeping a box of cigarettes.

"Going to take a smoke break before class?" Izaya guesses with precision.

The blonde gives a slow nod and starts to head for the nearest exit so he can satisfy his nicotine addiction.

With nothing better to do, Izaya follows after him. He has no intention of attending class for the rest of the day anyways. His own cravings have been nagging at the back of his mind and he certainly has no inclination to go through withdrawals again. The time to satisfy his own urge is rapidly approaching.

"Well, it was a fun time, Shizu-chan. But I have things to do. Ah, I'll make sure to return that blanket to you later."

Just as he is about to take his leave, the blonde stops him. "Wait. You..." he starts to say then seems to think better of it. "Never mind." He waves Izaya off, a cigarette held between his fingers.

"Oh? Were you going to ask me something? Curious about where I'm going?" Izaya prods with a knowing grin.

"Stay clean," Shizuo advises, ignoring the slew of questions.

Izaya chokes back a laugh. "Ah, is that all you wanted to say? Better not to waste your breath then."

As though that tidbit annoys him, the blonde throws his cigarette to the ground and stamps it out angrily with his foot. "Don't go," he growls out as though it is some kind of command. And judging from the look in his eyes, it can easily be taken as a threat.

Although he should probably just accept that the two of them will never see eye to eye on this, Izaya is ultimately just as stubborn. This is one thing he is completely unwilling to budge on. But a thought occurs to him and he takes a few steps to close in the distance between himself and Shizuo. "Okay," he consents, "I'll stop doing drugs. In return, how about you and I spend a night together?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Big thanks to LovelySpiral for the nice reviews. Thank yooou~ and the rest of you too for faves, alerts, and for reading this in general. Hope you enjoy it so far.


	5. sensation

**chapter zero-five ;; sensation**

"A night...?" The recognition of what Izaya is suggesting is slow to register on Shizuo's face. But his cheeks do not flush with embarrassment when he realizes the implications. His eyes merely widen a fraction and then his lips flatten into a line.

Izaya chuckles at the reaction. "Heh? You don't have to take it so seriously, Shizu-chan." He claps the other man on the shoulder, which is a considerable feat since the blonde is noticeably taller than him. "It's like I said earlier. I am only interested in cash."

"For?"

He is a little surprised that Shizuo actually prompts him for that kind of information. "Oh? Are you curious?" A mischievous grin spreads across his lips. "Well, that would take away the mystery. You better finish your cigarette and get to your next class. Ciao~" Giving the blonde a wink and a wave, Izaya turns his back and heads off.

Again he ends up at his dealer's house. Although this time, at least, he does not have to sleep with the man. The little bit of cash he has left disappears quickly as he takes a couple of hits before heading off to visit the apartments of his regulars. He has to rustle up some cash if he wants to keep the withdrawals at bay and satisfy his addiction. Plus the added cost of actually buying a futon and the other essentials now that he has his own apartment – ah, plus that fee. Even as minimal as it is, it still requires money that the old crone for a mother he has certainly won't supply. Especially now that she seems to have disappeared off on her own.

It is the second apartment that he stops at that he finds his first job. The guy is apparently also a college student, albeit an upper level one at a different university. Supposedly he is the only child and heir to their little family business but has plans to pursue a degree in art. Not that any of this is information that Izaya has ever considered pertinent. Rather, it makes it more interesting to him that he is able to ensnare such a person.

Contrary to how cold and aloof Izaya is throughout the whole affair, the other man is passionate and filled with desire. Perhaps it is because of the drugs that Izaya feels nothing even as the other man showers him with kisses. And those probing fingers that drift across his body do little to stimulate his mind even as his body reacts.

His senses are numb throughout the ordeal. It is almost as though his body is divorced from his mind, acting on autopilot. Small moans escape his lips as he feels a foreign heat drill into him. But is that even really his voice? It seems so distant even as his ears perceive it.

"I will pay you double if you stay for a couple more hours and we go for another round," the man tells him at the end, when the two have collapsed in a sweaty heap on the mattress.

Izaya's bleary eyes swivel around as he glances at the man. He shudders at the feel of warm breath caressing the shell of his ear. Strange how his body reacts while his mind and heart remain encased in a sheath of ice. "Double, hm~" he drawls in an amused tone. "Seems acceptable." His thoughts are too muddled to say otherwise.

And all of a sudden the other man's lips are pressed against his own. Almost instinctively, Izaya opens his mouth and their tongues are at once entangled. He drowns in the bliss that the drugs afford him, to leave his mind so foggy that he does not even recognize himself throughout the whole encounter. All he focuses on is the image of that wad of cash sitting at the bedside, his for the taking as soon as this is over. And by the time it is, he can head home through the darkness and collapse under the warmth of that blanket that Shizuo has lent to him. The allure of that keeps him going – not unlike a machine whose only directive is to fulfill a certain purpose.

His consciousness seems to spin into an indiscernible blur. The images coalesce until all he sees is a murky red. By the time his mind is clear enough for him to be coherent, he finds himself walking – somewhat irregularly – as he heads back toward his apartment.

Almost mechanically he dips his hand into his pocket to check for the cash. He does not want to go home empty-handed. He feels a little relieved to know that it is safely tucked where it should be. Given that security, he continues the rest of the way while enjoying the chill of the night's air as it crawls across his skin.

At the apartment building, he clambers up the staircase that noisily announces his arrival as he comes to the second floor. Before he can even make it to his door, his neighbor – Shizuo – suddenly peeks out. Izaya almost wonders if the blonde was waiting for him. But it appears to be coincidence. At least, that is what he initially thinks.

"Aha, already back from school." Izaya grins at Shizuo as he reaches for his door. But just as he begins to open it, Shizuo is already right beside him with a hand pressed against the door to hold it shut. Considering that his clothes probably smell like the heroine he was smoking earlier, he can guess that he is about to get an earful. Sluggishly, Izaya turns to the demanding presence beside him and offers the blonde a look of surprise. "Hm? Something the matter?"

Shizuo leans in, close enough that their lips could almost be touching, and then comes an almost tickling buffet of air against Izaya's cheek that makes him shudder. "You stink," Shizuo informs with a look of displeasure.

"Oh? Maybe you should let me go inside so I can shower, then." Again he is being cheeky just to mess with Shizuo.

"Stop going."

Again with that spiel? Izaya frowns. "Unfortunately, Shizu-chan, I don't think that falls under your jurisdiction. If my drug habits annoy you that much, maybe you shouldn't associate with me." Speaking those words leaves a bad taste in his mouth because even he knows that is not what he really wants. No, somehow there is something about Shizuo that reels him in even if it is against his will.

Those dark brown eyes avert for a moment before gazing back up at Izaya with determination. "I will do it," Shizuo says with conviction, never really specifying what the meaning of that sentence is.

"You'll do what?" Izaya snarks back. "Are you going to–"

Before he can even finish his sentence, their lips meet and it almost feels like a wave of electricity shoots through his body. It is completely different from his experience just half an hour ago. There is something more earnest about this. A heat simmers in the pit of his stomach. At once the experience is terrifying and exciting.

The overload of sensation shocks Izaya back to reality and he uses both hands to shove the blonde away. Shizuo stumbles a bit but the expression on his face remains impassive. Strangely, Izaya can feel his cheeks burning – embarrassment? He hastily presses the sleeve of his shirt against his mouth to wipe away at the spittle that has lingered from their brief connection. He glares at the blonde for only a moment before hurrying into his apartment and slamming the door behind him.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He presses his back against the door, his hand resting on the knob as he makes sure to lock it securely. His breathing has grown irregular and his heart beat erratic. What is this? This feeling... He swallows back the questions that threaten to overload his brain. Lifting himself away from the door, he heads straight for the bathroom and turns the knob in the shower. Hurriedly, he peels off his clothes before hopping in. The stream is chillingly cold but the numbness it induces is almost relieving.

After his shower, he heads straight to bed with his hair still wet. He has not the mind to dry it. His focus is hazy and he can only be grateful that the drugs are dulling his mind enough that he cannot think properly. He prefers it that way. Especially now that Shizuo has sent his feelings into disarray.

In the morning there comes no knock that rouses him for morning classes. He has to get himself up this time and drag his weary body the entire route to school by himself. In the back of his mind, he wonders if Shizuo stayed home or if the blonde simply left without him. That stirs some bitterness in his mouth, though he is not sure why.

But his question is answered as soon as he peers into the classroom. A quick glance and he spots that tall, blonde head sticking out from all the others. Apparently he was left behind. That perturbs him for some reason, and he finds himself traipsing to his chair. Regardless of how irate he feels, he settles down right beside Shizuo – but he does not make eye contact or say so much as a "good morning." He can, however, feel Shizuo's eyes on him.

"Mornin'."

He does not even bother acknowledging the greeting. Instead he turns to Erika who has just come in and taken her seat. "Ah, Erika-chan. Good morning~" His intentional avoidance of Shizuo is at once obvious.

Even Erika has noticed this uncharacteristic change, considering that she has grown accustomed to him largely ignoring her presence even as she tries to impose her manga-centric banter on him. But she is not about to comment on this oddity. Instead a grin surfaces on the girl's lips. "Hey, Izaya-kun! Did you happen to see that show last night?"

"Hm? What show? I don't watch much television." For some reason, if it means avoiding Shizuo, he is willing to humor her.

The question initiates a long, rambling tirade about a new anime that has apparently started airing and how Erika simply does not approve of it because, according to her, it is not a "proper adaptation." He is not really sure what to make of this information, nor does he particularly care. Still, he manages to feign enough interest to make it seem as though he is absorbed in the conversation.

But then it takes a sudden turn as Erika suddenly says, "Oh, by the way... Yumacchi said that he saw you last night. You were wandering around downtown and you looked totally out of it. Did something happen?"

His eyes widen slightly as he tries to conjure up an image of the person Erika is referring to. "Ah, you mean the guy with the creepy smile and the narrow eyes," he says. "Strange, I don't remember seeing him. I must have been out of it, after all~" Despite the implication that he was higher than a kite again, he just grins blithely.

"You know, those rumors are just going to get worse if people see you like that," Erika tells him.

Izaya inclines his head. "What are people saying, Erika-chan?"

She seems a little surprised that he is not already aware. "You haven't heard them? Well, I guess people would think it rude to mention them in front of you." For a moment, she taps her chin as if contemplating. "Well, are you sure you want to hear? They aren't very pleasant."

"Go ahead."

Her voice lowers to a whisper that is still loud enough for Shizuo to eavesdrop, though Izaya suspects the blonde has tuned out most of their conversation already. "Actually, they say that you sleep around for money and that you hang out with some really shady people making drug deals."

Izaya chortles at how serious of an expression she makes as she relays this information. "Is that all?" he asks. "Those seem pretty harmless, since they are mostly true."

"They're true?" Erika squeaks.

Suddenly a loud bang resounds around the room as Shizuo slams his fists against the desk. He abruptly takes to his feet, snatching his bag from the floor and slinging it over his shoulder. Before he leaves, he gives Izaya a sideways glare, promptly stalking out of the classroom afterward.

"Ill-tempered as ever," Izaya comments impassively.

"Are you sure you should be saying that? Couldn't he hear you?"

He leans back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest as he cocks his head back. "It doesn't matter if he hears me."

The class proceeds as soon as the professor arrives. And, as Izaya sulkily notes, Shizuo never does return. His absence is palatable to no one but Izaya himself. To everyone else, the oppressive air that the blonde exudes has been lifted and all of them can breathe a little easier.

When class ends and the lunch period begins, Izaya trails behind Erika – who he has managed to coax into buying him another meal. She obliges happily after making an off-handed comment that he could add a few extra pounds to that bony body of his.

Ultimately he ends up seated with both Erika and Yumacchi – the latter of the two casting the occasional curious glance in Izaya's direction. But he largely ignores their conversation which seems to revolve around several different series. Erika eventually starts blathering on about some "boy love" manga that she has been obsessing over lately, leaving Yumacchi to sigh and say something along the lines of, "Just as expected from a fujoshi."

Izaya quickly eats his meal before excusing himself, which coincides with the same moment that "Dotachin" comes to settle down at the table. He does not seem particularly put off by the fact that Izaya happens to want to leave as soon as he sits down. In fact, he actually offers a congenial smile.

Although Izaya pauses to consider skipping evening class too, he has not attended in some time and figures it for the best if he at least shows his face. So as he heads for the classroom, it is purely bad luck that he happens to bump shoulders with Celty. He half-expects to receive a glare and a verbal beat down but she just peers up into his face with curiosity he has never before seen her exhibit.

"Something happen?" she asks, as though she already knows. Though Izaya finds it highly unlikely that Shizuo would have confided as much to her.

"Hm?" He raises his brows innocently and shrugs his shoulders. "What ever do you mean, Celty-chan?"

There is a flicker of annoyance in those eyes of hers at being called so familiarly. "I mean with Shizuo. He seemed sullen at lunch today." She frowns. "This is exactly the reason why I told you to stay away from him."

"Blaming the blameless," he counters.

"Where there's smoke, there's a fire," she quips before traipsing off.

The black-haired man sneers as he watches her leave. Detestable woman, yet at the same time far more tolerable than the majority of people he has encountered. She seems to have a way of seeing right through his facade, unlike most people. But that leaves him feeling almost naked and vulnerable.

After the last of his classes finish that evening, Izaya heads out of the school with every intention to go downtown and visit his dealer again. With the amount of money he has from yesterday, he can stock up a bit and do most of his smoking at home. But his plans are subdued when he spots Shizuo waiting by the main entrance. His heart seizes as he wonders if the blonde might be waiting for him but he almost immediately dismisses that possibility. However, as he attempts to stroll past, Shizuo catches him by the shoulder.

"Hey."

For some reason, his heart almost seems to race and it is a detestable feeling that leaves him glaring contemptuously at Shizuo. "Do you need something?" The question comes out as almost an accusatory snarl; an attempt to dissuade Shizuo from even bothering.

But the blonde presses on. "Going home?"

"No," Izaya answers honestly.

"Then?"

Why does he even bother asking? It is clear by the expression on his face that he already knows. This frustrates Izaya. His intention in becoming involved with Shizuo had merely been to mess with the blonde for fun but slowly Shizuo is managing to drain any pleasure from that activity. Now the two only seem to butt heads as Shizuo asserts repeatedly that Izaya needs to lay off his addiction. "I'm not sure that is any of your concern," Izaya retorts condescendingly.

Slowly, the blonde lowers his hand from Izaya's shoulder. "My brother," he starts to say, but his sentence abruptly trails off.

"What about your brother?"

Suddenly they lock eyes. "I told you before. That I had seen worse."

The gears in Izaya's head slowly churn as he begins to register the meaning, linking the puzzle pieces that Shizuo has provided him. Apparently he is referring back to when Izaya was in his care while experiencing withdrawals. Vaguely, he does recall Shizuo telling him that he had seen worse before. Now that Shizuo mentions his brother, Izaya can only assume that's where he had seen it before.

So that is all this was about? Having seen his brother in the same pattern before, he is struggling so fiercely against Izaya because he does not want to see the same thing happen again? Izaya's jaw locks as he realizes. Is that it – the only reason?

"Where is he now?" Izaya asks suddenly.

"The hospital."

Still alive, apparently, and Izaya can guess that was who the extra bed in Shizuo's room had once belonged to. He wonders how long Shizuo's brother has been in the hospital. Many questions float around in his head but he holds back from asking them. His pride is more important than his curiosity.

"Is that why?" he asks, to clarify. "You keep pestering me, wanting me to stop. Is that because I remind you of your brother?"

"Your addiction does," Shizuo corrects with a nod of confirmation.

His heart drops into the pit of his stomach, eliciting a nausea that has him wanting to backpedal and charge toward the bathroom. He feels so sick. Far more so than when he experiences withdrawals. Why? Why is he so disappointed? It should mean nothing to him; should not affect him at all. Has he not long ago learned that people cannot be trusted? So why has he so unwittingly put trust into this blonde-haired Hercules standing before him?

Idiot, he inwardly admonishes for his own foolishness. Now he is suffering the repercussions. But while he is at it, why not satisfy the desire that has been smoldering underneath? If Shizuo wants to betray his trust by seeing him only as an echo of his brother, then surely Izaya can work that to his advantage.

"Say, Shizu-chan, you said before you would do it. Did you mean it?" He raises his brows suggestively. "That is, sleep with me in – and in exchange, I will stay clean."

For a moment, the blonde seems somewhat taken aback but he gradually gives another nod. "Yeah," he says.

What the hell? Izaya frowns to himself. How can this be so important to Shizuo that he is actually willing to sleep with Izaya? Certainly he has no place to talk, given that his scars run deep enough that he dopes himself up just so he won't have to think about the pain they cause. Apparently he shares that in common with Shizuo, if the man is that desperate to save someone from doing drugs.

"What a simpleton," he says in disgust. "What a fool."

Shizuo furrows his brows but makes no move to respond.

"Alright," Izaya concedes. "I won't go out tonight. I'll spend it with you instead. How about that, Shizu-chan?"

It is the first time – and he promises himself, the last – that he has ever offered to sleep with someone without something in return. Rather, he is forcing himself to give something up; to sacrifice something. Yet he does not feel conflicted about this. Instead, he anticipates it. The strange sensations he experiences when he is around Shizuo; he wants to experience them more. Explore them and see how far they can go. Izaya knows well enough that he will ultimately grow bored with it. At that time, he can return to his normal routine. Certainly he has no intentions of giving up his addiction completely. He is not so strong willed a person.

"Okay."

As soon as Shizuo gives his consent, Izaya pats the blonde on the back. "Well, let's head to your apartment then, shall we?" To try to ease the tension in the air, he offers Shizuo a large grin, but it does little to hide his own unease.

They walk there in silence and the whole time Izaya's mind is racing. He can feel his craving intensifying; but he wants the drugs more so to stifle the overwhelming surge of emotions he is feeling. This has never happened before. His emotional affect has always been dulled. Why does being around Shizuo seem to stir all of this within him?

For some reason, his feet feel unusually heavy as he clambers up the stairs to Shizuo's apartment. Hastily, he wipes away the beads of sweat lining his brow as he waits for the blonde to unlock his door. As soon as it is open, the two disappear inside.

Before Shizuo can make a move or say a word, Izaya impulsively decides that he needs a shower first. He tries to give the impression of being calm and collected but he fears that Shizuo can see right through this facade.

In the bathroom, he turns the water to chilling cold. When it hits him, it feels like a thousand daggers piercing his skin and he trembles as he tries to endure it. Somehow his body rapidly becomes accustomed to the temperature and soon there is just a faint numbness that crawls across his skin. Certainly this is not nearly as effective as the drugs he normally takes but it will have to be enough to soothe his nerves for now.

By the time he gets done and comes out, he sees that Shizuo is standing by the window – gazing out at the sun that appears to be ducking down behind the horizon. The sky is rapidly dimming and the moon has become visible, although the light of the stars is obscured by those of the city as the night crowd comes to life. He can see one neon sign come alive in the distance – some kind of club, most likely.

"Haven't changed your mind, have you, Shizu-chan?"

The blonde slowly turns around to face Izaya, and his surprise is immediately apparent. Just to test the limits, Izaya has come out without a thread to cover his body. His hair is still dripping wet. At this point, he figures Shizuo will admit this is all some kind of sick joke – or at least react with enough disgust to prove that he is not serious about this. But then he says, "No," and Izaya is the one left feeling uncertain.

"You don't actually see me the same as your brother, right? If so, this is a little too kinky for my taste." He is smirking as he says that because he already knows the answer. Shizuo could never see a resemblance between Izaya and his own brother, beyond them apparently sharing a drug addiction. And all of this is just to a means to bridge whatever regret Shizuo feels.

"No, you are nothing like Kasuka," Shizuo answers as he takes a few strides forward to close the gap between them. Tentatively, the blonde extends his hand, pressing his calloused palm and fingers against Izaya's cheek.

"Oh? Either way, don't wake up regretting this tomorrow." Although he fears that those words are more for himself than Shizuo.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Oh god, I don't know if I love or hate this chapter or both. Urgh it turned out so weird, OTL. Izaya thinking that Shizuo sees him like Kasuka is just his misunderstanding/assumption. Clarifying now so that it doesn't seem too weird, even though Shizuo specifically tells him that he's nothing like Kasuka. Hopefully you guys liked it. I've stewed for the past week trying to make it perfect but not ever quite satisfied. Also changing rating to M since the story is gradually going to get more explicit from here on out, though never to an extreme point.

Anyways, thanks so much for the reviews. Lovely Spiral got my reference to Savitri. This makes me so happy - I'm such a mythology/folklore buff, I had to throw it in there somehow.


	6. forward

**chapter zero-six ; forward**

His skin is alight in goosebumps, his breathing stilted and his heart pounding erratically. What are these sensations that he has never experienced for? His lashes flutter as he gazes hazily up at the ceiling. The places where Shizuo touches feel on fire. He struggles to contain himself.

Everything that is happening seems a blur. He is only vaguely aware of the warmth of another tongue on his own. His senses have been violated – assaulted by the scent, the feel, and the taste of Shizuo. Skin on skin, warmth that steadily envelops him. Izaya can scarcely form a coherent thought as he melts into the strong arms holding him.

Passionate is not the word for it – there is no "love," and they both know it. It is animalistic, pure lust. There is nothing about it that is gentle. Instead it is rough and almost forceful but entirely consensual. If there is any pain through the experience, Izaya gives no indication. He does not consider himself masochistic but it is true that he relishes in the feeling if he experiences it. Further proof that he is still alive. Pain acts as an anchor that keeps him steadily connected to the reality of what is happening.

And where at first Shizuo struggles to fall into the rhythm, the blonde gradually acclimates to the feel of Izaya's body. It turns from awkward to smooth. By the time everything is over, the two are a tangled heap of sweat beneath a thin sheet, their breathing heavy and unsteady.

"You fuck like a brainless brute, too," Izaya grumbles. His words do not fall in line with how he felt throughout the experience, but his cravings have left him bitter. And the last thing he plans to do is express whatever pleasure he felt, especially to someone like Shizuo.

The blonde stares at him blankly and says, "You were the one making so much noise."

That comment is enough to coax Izaya into peeling himself away from the other body. He feels more empty now than he did before settling onto the mattress with Shizuo. Why does it seem as though the experience has drained him further, rather than providing the fulfillment he had been seeking? He stares back impassively at the blonde, whose eyelids have folded shut – the expression on his face gives the impression of contentment.

Lingering any longer than necessary is against his general policy. Izaya stalks to the bathroom where he had originally abandoned his clothes and takes the opportunity to rinse himself off before donning them again. The stink of heroine permeates from them and acts as a catalyst to trigger his cravings again. No use, because as much as he detests that he momentarily succumbed to his feelings, a promise is a promise. He will just have to hope that sleeping will be possible, and be enough to stave off withdrawals until morning.

As he heads out the door, he sneaks one final look back at Shizuo. No reaction on behalf of the blonde – probably already fast asleep. Izaya seems even more unsettled because he had expected the blonde to have regretted it afterward. Maybe it is too early for such a reaction. Tomorrow, he promises himself, Shizuo will come to rue his weakness in having accepted such a foolish offer.

Regardless, Izaya slips out and returns to the emptiness of his own apartment. Huddled beneath the duvet that he has borrowed from Shizuo, he tries to settle into sleep. A futile effort, considering the blanket itself smells just like the blonde. It stirs memories of their earlier act. What the fuck is wrong with him? Irritated with himself, Izaya grasps at fistfuls of his hair and bites back the frustration that he would love to express in a vocal way – but he does not want to admit to his own weakness.

And eventually he does pass out form his exhaustion though it is most likely the wee hours of the morning by then. Either way, he is stirred from what little rest he has managed when a knock comes at the door. He can guess before he even gets to the door that it is probably Shizuo outside waiting for him.

The precision of his prediction is almost disappointing. Just as expected, the blonde is standing there with his bag draped over his shoulder and a rosy color to his cheeks from waiting out in the cold – despite the jacket covering his arms.

"Hm? Come to pick me up again?" Izaya guesses in a bored drawl.

Blondie does not seem to pick up on the other's disinterest and merely nods.

"Ah, I hope you have not mistaken something," the dark-haired man croons in response. "See, just because we slept together and live beside each other does not mean we have any reason to associate. That was a one time thing. So unless you intend to pay me in the future, I have no interest in further contact with you, Shizu-chan." He has every intention of ending their interaction at this point by slamming the door but a hand noisily falls flat upon it, stopping every effort Izaya makes to shut it.

"You're lying," Shizuo's voice asserts. He seems impassive, the way he speaks the line as though it has been rehearsed before. Yet at the same moment he says it with enough emphasis to give the impression that he is confident in his ability to read Izaya.

This is only unnerving for the dark-haired man who is, by now, desperate to shrink back into his apartment. Those probing brown eyes that seem to be able to see straight through him – for the first time in his life, he feels incredibly small beneath their gaze.

What is wrong with him? Does he lose his composure so easily because of the words of one person? That seems unlike him. He cannot be so easily unmasked or outwitted, particularly by someone like Shizuo. The blonde-haired brute hardly seems socially perceptive enough to really see beneath the facade that Izaya employs.

So he plays off the awkwardness with a peal of bemused laughter. "Ah? Are you really that gullible? I am a little surprised, Shizu-chan. I had you pegged as someone not easily duped but I guess even you can fall for a con occasionally, hm?"

"Liar." The blonde leans in, closing the distance between the two of them, and at once they are on eye level with each other. There is something about Shizuo's eyes – particularly when they are up so close – that makes Izaya feel uneasy.

"Shove off," he says finally, pressing a palm against the blonde's shoulder to urge him back. "People that can't take a hint are annoying."

Annoying? Maybe this is all just his cravings talking, since they do have the effect of making him more irritable than he would be otherwise. Although it seems more likely that, somehow, Blondie is starting to get under his skin. Impossible, he thinks, but the present situation suggests otherwise as he grits his teeth in frustration at the opposing emotions battling within him.

For whatever reason, Shizuo decides to relent. His hand drops away from the door and he straightens himself. "Come to class," he says. Leaving it at that, he turns and starts toward the stairs. At the very least he is not going to be persistent about the two of them going to together. But there is something about his words that feels more like a command than a request. _"Come to class."_

Izaya frowns and slams his door hard enough to rattle the rusty hinges. He seethes, if only because his logical thoughts are so tangled that he actually pauses to consider going to morning classes after all. And what for? Is he an idiot now?

Just as a trough filling with water eventually spills over, so too does Izaya lose hold of the building anger. It comes out in the form of a fist slamming against the metal door, with enough force behind it that it leaves a slight indentation – along with bloody knuckles and a numbness that runs through his entire arm. He sinks to the floor afterward, cradling his hand against his chest. All the emotion drains from his face gradually as he takes a deep inhale, trying to clear his mind. Impossible – he knows – but these emotions boiling within him need to be stifled.

That comes in the form of a long drag once he arrives at his dealer's place. Yet the drugs do not seem to dull his senses as much as they usually do. Instead the unease remains and his thoughts seems intent on bringing the image of Shizuo back to the forefront of his mind. Those piercing eyes and his blunt, tactless way of speaking.

Izaya sighs to himself. It is afternoon by the time he leaves his dealer, cravings momentarily satiated. But he does not feel as high as he should. No, instead he feels a chronic emptiness.

As he is heading back to his apartment complex, he passes by a convenience store. As good a place as any to get breakfast. But then he notes a sign in the window that mentions that they are hiring. Something that normally would not catch his attention and yet moments later after he enters, he finds foreign words spilling past his lips.

"Hey, you got an application?"

The young girl behind the counter beams in return. "Yes, we do!" She immediately shuffles through a stack of papers and hands him one. "Here you are."

"Thanks," he grunts back, taking the sack of food in one hand and the application in the other. He must really be nuts to be honestly considering normal work over his usual promiscuous habits. After all, spending the night with someone earns him a lot more than minimum wage ever will. What is he thinking? He chows down on a riceball as he contemplates this very thing on the way back to his apartment.

It is strangely quiet when he gets back. Perhaps he is too used to Shizuo's presence, which only brings chaos into his life. The silence is something he is more accustomed to. But his apartment seems incredibly lonely and dull in comparison with the time he has been putting into school lately. Going to class and being surrounded by Erika, her friends, as well as Shizuo... it is a strange feeling.

Maybe a part of him is starting to become a little more human. That thought is strangely disquieting. For there is something about solitude that is infinitely more secure for him than being associated with other people. But even Izaya is no exception to the rule that humans are social beings.

All of a sudden he hears a distant pounding, coupled with a gruff voice yelling. It sounds like someone is calling Shizuo's name. At the very least, whomever it is seems to be causing a serious disturbance outside. Perhaps prompted by curiosity, Izaya wanders to his door and peeks out to locate the source of the disruption.

It is clear at once that the man lingering outside of Shizuo's apartment is no ordinary civilian. He seems even more a brute than Blondie. His accent is heavy enough to give his words a southern slur. The man's arms are smirched with elaborate tattoos. Perhaps it should be almost comical how he seems to fit the stereotypical image of a yakuza.

And it is probably a foolish place to insert himself but Izaya's mouth opens before he realizes what he is saying. "Ah, so noisy out here. I don't assume you could wait quietly until Shizu-chan comes back by himself?"

"Huh?" The man growls back like an animal. He cranes his neck back to look at Izaya. Although his face seems to be set in a perpetual scowl and his words reflect his expression. "Whaddaya know 'bout Shizuo? Ya know where he is?"

"Sure do," Izaya responds with a smirk. "And you don't look like you belong around here. So how about a deal? You tell me what you are here for and I decide whether or not it is interesting enough that I should disclose the information you're looking for."

Disgruntled by the haughty attitude that Izaya takes, the man balls his fists. "I dun think ya want to get involved, kid," he puts derisive emphasis on that last word. As though the gap between their ages is so evidently large. Or perhaps he is trying to point to the fact that there is a discrepancy in their life experience.

"On the contrary, perhaps I have nothing better to do than get involved. See, there are some curious rumors that Shizu-chan is involved in some 'shady business.' I am only curious as to how much truth that holds." That is only partially true, and he knows it. For his true objective in getting the information is both to have some insight into the enigma that is Shizuo Heiwajima, and to give himself an advantage where he feels inferior.

Of course it is also foolish to assume that this man is at all willing to give consideration to Izaya's terms. Particularly if his image fits with reality. Yet it almost seems that Izaya is wrong on this account. For rather than brusquely refuse or otherwise threaten him into divulging the information, the man seems to relax a little. "Ya a friend of Shizuo's?"

"Heh, friend? I am not quite sure that is the word that should be used. Acquaintance is more accurate." Although he is not sure how many acquaintances fall into bed with one another, but that certainly is not characteristic of a friendship either. Perhaps they are something else altogether. Izaya discounts the possibly that there is anything between them that they could be considered "close," however.

"Ah. D'ya know 'bout his brother?"

"Sure, sure. The kid that is in the hospital, right?"

The man gives a somber nod. Now he appears to be the one out of character. "Right," he mutters gravely. "Ain't have such a great family life, so Shizuo has been takin' care of both of 'em for a while now. But the hospital bills are more than he can afford on minimum wage so he's been taking out loans from us."

"Ah, so you are loan shark then," Izaya deduces.

But he shakes his head. "Nah, ya probably had it right with yer first assumption." A yakuza after all, then? "Anyhow, Shizuo's gotta pay up soon. Or he's gonna have to give up college fer a second job. Even that, probably won't be enough. Interest rate is too high. Probably he's gonna hafta..." Instead of finishing the sentence, the man trails off.

Izaya clicks his tongue. Is he supposed to feel sympathy or something? "What a regular sob story. Points off for being boring and cliche. Anyways, he won't be coming back for a while so you can wait here if you want. But old man, you are probably better off visiting on a weekend."

His cheeky remarks earn him a pointed glare. "Right," he mutters to himself as he turns to the staircase and starts toward it, hands shoved into his pockets. It seems all too easy that he is leaving so readily. "Let Shizuo know that I came by. I'll be back again, Orihara."

"Oh? Already knew my name, hm? Scary~"

There is something of a dangerous gleam in the man's eyes as he descends the staircase and gradually disappears from view. The veiled threat within his words should be more unsettling than it is to Izaya. But he is not one to fold underneath a challenge. In fact, quite to the contrary, although he feigns disinterest on the outside, these new facts are weighing on his mind as he ducks back into his apartment.

Rather than laze about for the rest of the evening, he diligently sets to work on filling out the application he had requested earlier. There is little he can supply in the form of past work experience. And certainly the likelihood of him being hired is not something he should be optimistic about. Although he can at least assume that his name will not carry the negative connotations at a little convenience store on a corner as it does around the university campus. That much is fortunate.

By the time he has finished thoroughly filling out every tidbit, a hard knock falls on his door. He does not even have to pause to imagine who would be loitering outside of his apartment by this time. He rubs at the back of his neck to alleviate some stiffness as he shuffles to the door. An exasperated sigh escapes his lips almost the moment that he opens it. "Really, Shizu-chan, you are so..."

"Hm? You were expecting Shizuo?" Shockingly, it is not the blonde standing in front of Izaya's door with his hand poised to knock. It is the man that he met in the lunchroom before. Shinra Kishitani, was it? Those eyes, hidden behind thick-rimmed glasses, seem to regard Izaya pleasantly as the man smiles.

Izaya stares back at him blankly in return. "Does it matter? Was there something you needed, Shinra-san?"

He chuckles in response at how the playful chiding tone that Izaya had been employing moments before has suddenly turned so cold and aloof. "It seems like you and Shizuo are pretty close, huh?" Rather than seeming as embittered about it as Izaya might expect, Shinra appears relieved. "Actually I was going to invite you along with us tomorrow. We are going to the library to study. Tests are coming up soon."

"Oh? I can hardly picture someone like Shizuo studying for a test." In fact the image that such a notion conjures in his head is almost laughable.

"Hm?" Shinra seems genuinely nonplussed. "Of course he has to study. You have to have good marks to receive financial assistance, after all."

That somehow makes sense. Of course Shizuo would not be able to attend on merit alone, nor is the blonde particularly financial stable. Especially in consideration of the earlier conversation that Izaya engaged in with that shady character. He scratches at the top of his head. What is he suddenly getting himself involved in?

"So? Will you come with us then?"

There is no particular reason for him to reject such an invitation. What else does he have to do? Although given that he is trying to put distance between himself and Shizuo, acceptance seems a foolish notion. But he finds himself giving a nod of agreement before he can even consider that it might not be the best decision.

"Alright, tomorrow then."

A little later that night and he anticipates that a knock might fall upon his door at any moment. He expects reproach from Shizuo for being obstinate and not coming to school. Yet Izaya finds himself left to solitude even long after the sun has descended behind the horizon. A late shift, maybe? Since apparently Shizuo works. He admits that prior to today, he was not particularly aware that Shizuo did work. Although he supposes that most people have to supply some of their own income if their parents are not the giving type.

Frustrated, he deems it prudent for some fresh air to relieve his stress. After all, this is the first time in a while that he has done little more than loiter around in his apartment without anything to preoccupy his interest but his school books. And he is not very partial to studying. Being cooped up is probably not advisable for his health, either.

And by some stroke of fate or luck – he is not sure which – he leaves his apartment at the same instance as Shizuo. What ensues is an awkward moment in which Blondie seems to stare over at him with a blank look. On the other hand, Izaya tries to avert his eyes. He suspects that the blonde will try to say something to him. No doubt mention his earlier absence from class. Yet what his ears perceive are not chiding words but the echoing sound of Shizuo's fading footsteps as he starts down the stairs.

Feeling a little put off by the fact that he has been entirely ignored, Izaya decides to take the reins this time. He calls to Shizuo from the railing, his arms perched upon the cool steel bar. "Hey, Shizu-chan, heading off to work already? Ah, do you work a night job?" He is wearing that cat-like grin to signify his superficial interest – he does not really care. He asks only because he feels the sting of disappointment that Shizuo's earlier interest seems to have all but disappeared.

Blondie cocks his head back and stops on his descent to regard Izaya with a frown. "Going to visit the hospital," he says under his breath. The distance should be enough to make his words imperceptible but coupled with the slow movement of his lips, Izaya is able to make out what has been said.

Inwardly, Izaya debates whether or not to make mention of the visitor that came calling earlier but finally decides that such a matter is not worth consideration. Instead he purses his lips. There should be no more to be said. He should butt out and quietly turn away, go back into his apartment and leave things. Maybe it is the curiosity within him or perhaps he can empathize with Shizuo, after all. But he finds himself saying, "Take me with you."

"You want to go?" Shizuo echoes, dumbfounded. For even him to be caught off guard by this when he seemed so sure of his ability to read Izaya earlier seems odd.

But the dark-haired man gives a nod. "Ah, why not? Unless you want to go alone. If that's the case..."

"No. I will wait for you here."

Just a few minutes later and the two are walking through the darkness, maneuvering the bustling streets side-by-side. Silence is the only thing between them despite the tumult of the city. Izaya does not bother to try to initiate small talk since the blonde seems too pensive to reciprocate anyways. They make awkward company for one another, particularly now that they have shared a night together. Although maybe that is just weighing on Izaya's mind.

When they arrive at the hospital, Izaya quietly follows behind Shizuo's lead. They wind through hallways that seem like an endless maze. It is an elevator ride later before they arrive at the appropriate room. It is only at this point that Izaya finds himself lingering behind instead of peeking inside. There is something about Shizuo's behavior that makes him feel as though tagging along was inappropriate to begin with. Never before has he seen Shizuo look quite so serious.

Peeking through the window on the sliding door, he sees therein a young man probably only three or four years younger than himself. Various machines are connected to his body, more lithe than even Izaya's. He is verging on almost skeletally thin and his countenance is pallid enough to give the impression of a porcelain doll. And gingerly, Shizuo seems to take his younger brother's frail hand into his own. Izaya watches the scene impassively.

Along the way here he has questioned his own motives but now he understands. That gaping emptiness within him is filled for this moment that he watches Shizuo and his younger brother. There exists between those two a relationship that Izaya has never had with his mother or his younger sisters. And at least vicariously he can experience that bond by watching the two of them. It brings him to an understanding, too, as to why Shizuo has associated with shady people.

Rather than linger any longer or otherwise impede on the moment the two siblings are sharing, Izaya turns his back on it and heads for the waiting room. Better that he not insert himself where he does not belong and get in the way. Such thoughts reinforce the loneliness that he has long endured. Even now, he recognizes that his associations with Shizuo are only temporary and fleeting. He warns himself against becoming attached, for he fears that attachment only coincides with abandonment.

These latent worries start to take shape and weigh down on his mind, but greater is the burden of his own exhaustion that coaxes him into sleep. He ultimately slumps in his chair, hanging his head as he dozes off. It is perhaps not long after that a crooning voice tries to rouse him. Izaya is resistant, loathe to answer the call. His eyelids roll open for a moment and he perceives a bleary image of someone who looks an awful lot like Shizuo before he mumbles a few dismissive words and nods off again.

When he next rouses, it is because of the frigid air buffeting against his cheeks. Yet stranger than that is the perceived motion and a steady grip on his thighs that jolts him fully awake. Shizuo grumbles in complaint while Izaya takes a moment to realize the fact that he is being quite literally carried home on Blondie's back.

His initial reaction, judging by the expression on his face, gives the impression that he is at once livid and mortified. Yet that cool, composed facade quickly erases any traces of displeasure. "If you wanted more skinship, all you had to do was offer some money, Shizu-chan. This kind of sly, sneaky approach seems unnecessary."

"Finally awake?" the blonde grunts in return as he pauses to let the other man down.

As soon as his feet are settled on the asphalt, Izaya finds Shizuo's eyes boring into him. "Hm? Something on your mind, Shizu-chan?"

Those brown eyes avert to the ground. There is quite obviously something on Shizuo's mind but whatever words linger at the back of his throat remain unspoken as he turns to continue whatever route he is taking. "Come on," he calls back to Izaya without pause. "Let's go home." Those are simple words that should hold little meaning but it stirs within Izaya a warmth previously unexperienced. At first he hesitates but ultimately obeys. Perhaps because a part of him is starting to gradually accept his own feelings.

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**Author's Note:** Thank you guys so much for the lovely reviews. I think I see a few areas of improvement after rereading this chapter, particularly the pace which definitely needs to speed up. I think where I am weakest is adding in too much unnecessary content without plot development and I will strive to improve upon that in the following chapters. I was so stunned to see so much nice feedback, you guys really made my day.

Also posting this a day early because I have plans tomorrow so wouldn't be able to post then. Will be two weeks from now before I update again, since NaNoWriMo and some personal issues in real life. Hope everyone understands.


	7. emotion

**chapter zero seven ;; emotion**

There is something infinitely intriguing about the many expression that cross Shizuo's face. By itself, a studying session carries no allure to someone like Izaya. But given the opportunity to amuse himself with the perplexed, panicked look on the blonde's face as he tries to understand the formula that Shinra is teaching him, Izaya has to say this is not a wasted trip.

He drums his fingers across the desk as his eyes scan his own finished work. It is littered with mistakes, which Celty so helpfully points out. The dark-haired man turns to grin at her. "I'm not quite as concerned as the rest of you," he informs. "Are you also on financial assistance, Celty-chan?"

"It sounds skeevy when you ask," she grumbles as she pauses to erase her work. Just as Shizuo, she seems to be struggling through the algebra portion.

"Hm~ you don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Honestly, he does not really care either way. He is only trying to bide time until this whole farce is over. Frankly, he finds himself annoyed at mixing acadamia with personal time that he would rather be spending on other things.

"Well, it's true, I am. Shinra is the only one on a scholarship."

"Ohh~?" That piques his curiosity a bit, and he turns his gaze on the man that seems to be happily explaining a new equation to Shizuo. The blonde, in turn, looks utterly perturbed about the whole situation. He seems like a bomb about ready to explode. "Shizu-chan looks like he needs a smoke," Izaya teases with a smirk.

The blonde glowers at him in turn, as though he has hit the mark. "Shinra, break time yet?" he finally growls out, as though the last threads of patience are about ready to snap.

"Hm? You ready for a break already? I suppose we can..."

Shizuo does not wait for him to change his mind. He lifts himself out of his chair and with a grunt, heads toward the exit of the library. His hand is already flying to his breastpocket to fish out a cigarette, his other hand digging into his pant pocket to reach for his lighter. No doubt the nicotine will do wonders to soothe his nerves in the face of his academic struggle.

A grin plays across Izaya's face as he sees an opportunity to weasel out of studying in favor of probing Shizuo for information regarding that strange man that visited his apartment days ago. That seems infinitely more interesting than lingering next to the two lovebirds, whose flirting is enough to leave him gagging. Granted that it is all one-sided on Shinra's behalf as Celty makes a point of rebuffing him every time.

It is easy to duck out of the library unnoticed, given that the other two are too preoccupied. And he has been largely slacking off anyways. He has only made a point in coming because he regards it as an opportunity to observe the blonde.

"Shizu-chan," he coos as he spots his target on the steps.

Shizuo cranes his neck back to give Izaya a brief glance, prying the butt of the cigarette from between his lips. A cloud of smoke comes out, wafting in Izaya's direction – which elicits a fit of coughing as he tries to settle down on the concrete steps beside the blonde.

"You should really stop smoking," he complains sourly.

"If you stay sober."

That is an unexpected concession, although Izaya has no plans to agree to the compromise. His lips curl into a grin as he leans against Blondie's shoulder and plucks the cigarette from his fingers. "There's something I'm just a little bit curious about, Shizu-chan. You see, someone really interesting came to your apartment the other day. And with the rumors at the school..."

"Someone came?" Shizuo echoes back, not bothering to pry his cigarette from Izaya's grasp.

"Indeed," he chirps back slyly, leaning a few inches closer until their lips are close enough to exchange a kiss. Such affectionate gestures are not in Izaya's repertoire, however. And it is part of his paid service anyways. No, the only meaning behind their close proximity this time is to try to wheedle information from the blonde. "So tell me, Shizu-chan, you're not involved with the yakuza, are you?"

Although vehement denial is not among his expected reactions from Shizuo, nor is the cool, blank stare he receives. It seems as though Blondie is intent on being completely silent on the matter. Either way, he takes the opportunity, where Izaya has briefly let down his guard, to pry the cigarette away. One long drag later and he finally says, "Yeah."

That one-word answer is entirely too vague to sufficiently sate Izaya's curiosity. His head tilts as he peels himself away from Shizuo's side. "Isn't that dangerous, Shizu-chan? You preach a lot of holier-than-thou crap for someone who's digging their own grave."

"Come by my room tonight," he says, disregarding Izaya's taunting words. He pauses to put out his cigarette on the ground beside him, crushing the ash into the concrete. For good measure, he presses his foot over it once he stands.

"Hm, you liked it that much? Well, I don't mind but I'm not doing it for free so–"

"I'll pay."

That leaves Izaya almost dumbfounded but he plays it off by maintaining his usual cat-like smirk. "Ho...? So you're that addicted to me? Well, I can't deny a paying customer." As cool as he tries to sound, he feels a nervousness inching up on him. As much as he wants to think of it as business, he almost feels excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach. Why?

The blonde seems to shrug off those words. He seems to have grown accustomed to Izaya's habit of trying to instigate arguments with people. He makes a point of staring at the darker-haired man for a moment before he clambers up the steps and returns to the library.

"Yakuza, huh?" Izaya remarks to himself once his companion is far enough out of earshot. He draws a single digit along the length of his chin as he contemplates the meaning of his. How much deeper should he dig? Surely it is none of his business. Is it just curiosity or something else...? Either way, he has a bad feeling about it all. That seems silly to him, in consideration of the fact that Shizuo's involvement with the yakuza or whatever debts he has piling up – all of it really has little to do with Izaya.

He dusts his hands against his pantlegs as he takes to his feet. "Nothing to do with me, hm..." The cogs in his mind are beginning to turn as a new idea takes shape. Regardless, all of it is too premature at this point without knowing just how deep Shizuo's ties with the yakuza are.

At this point, however he sees little reason to linger at the library any longer. He has no designs on acing any of his classes. He is pleased enough to make a passing grade, which he seems to accomplish easily enough without such excessive efforts that his three... "friends"... seem content to expend.

Izaya reenters the library only briefly to collect his things before bidding everyone else good luck and setting off. He notes that Shizuo's eyes seem to linger on him, suspicion written across the blonde's face. "Don't worry," he coos as he passes by the other man on his way out. "I'm not going to get a hit today. Or... were you concerned that I might pay a visit to my other customers?" The glare he receives for those words elicits a chortle as he claps Shizuo on the shoulder before leaving entirely.

Now seems as good a time as any to turn in that application that he started filling out earlier in the week. All necessary blanks have been fulfilled and his sad excuse for a resume attached. And he is only marginally optimistic about his attempt at honest work coming to any fruition, anyways. Regardless of his feelings on the matter, he drops by his apartment to retrieve the paper before heading to the convenience store.

The woman who accepts it gives him an exceptionally large grin, accompanied by a suggestive wink. He contemplates the meaning behind her gaze, which lingers on him even as he awkwardly excuses himself from the store. Frankly, he does not dislike women – nor their company – although Celty might be an exception to that rule. He finds other men easier to deal with. More straightforward, he wants to say, although it seem a little ironic considering most of his customers want his services to be kept a secret.

There is time to kill before night falls and he has to make his appointment with Shizuo. He figures he can find something around the area to occupy his attention in the meantime. Something to distract him from the gnawing cravings that have already begun to remind him of his addiction.

Perhaps, he thinks, now is a good time to contact some of the well-connected people he is acquianted with. That seems the fastest route to obtain the information on Shizuo that he wants. Granted that he is entirely disregarding that earlier warning from the shady looking man that paid Shizuo's apartment a visit just days ago.

"Hmm~ what to do?" he grins to himself as he poses the question, drumming his fingers together before setting off down the street.

—

"You're late."

He clicks his tongue at Shizuo. "You didn't express that there was any urgency, Shizu-chan. How was I to know when you specifically wanted me? Are you that impatient?" Intent on teasing the blonde, he leans up on his tiptoes to bring their faces close.

Not quite so amused by the action, the blonde grips Izaya's collar and yanks him inside, slamming the door behind him. Moments later and the dark-haired man finds himself pressed against the wall. Their lips smash together rather roughly. But for as much as he wants to express a complaint, he finds his voice silenced when Shizuo's tongue snakes its way into his mouth. The brief exchange leaves him almost breathless and dazed until he realizes that the other man is already anxiously unzipping his pants.

"What's the occasion that you're in such a hurry? You got somewhere to–"

Again he is cut off, his words smothered and muffled by Shizuo's lips. Their tongues entangle briefly, although the sensation is fleeting. There is something desperate about the way the blonde's fingers claws at Izaya's shirt, as though ushering him to take it off as quickly as possible. Granted that he is not the type to deny anyone, particularly a paying customer. And so he does quite quickly oblige Shizuo.

However, there is something about all of this animalistic affection, and he realizes that he understands Shizuo even less in these moments. He laments that he did not take a hit earlier, either. For the sensations that the blonde's fingers coax out of him as they drag across his back and slide around to massage his chest – it is all too foreign, too uncomfortable.

And everywhere that Shizuo's tongue travels feels like it is on fire. From his neck and then his chest, slowly moving lower – it puts him on edge. This is not how most encounters happen. And he despies the fact that he finds himself entirely unable to control the pace.

In a desperate attempt to try to stop this from progressing in a way that he is not content with, he grabs at a fistful of Shizuo's hair. That seems to do little to dissuade the blonde, whose eyes only briefly flit up to meet Izaya's. It is not until that brief moment, when he sees his own image reflected in those coffee brown eyes, that he realizes how desperate and flustered he looks.

As though recognizing the momentary panic, Shizuo pauses and leans up toward Izaya's face. This time the kiss is mutual and prolonged. It should be comforting, it should be enough to reassure Izaya that he has resumed control. But his heart is beating too wildly for him to be fooled into believing that this isn't one relationship that he is entirely disadvantaged in.

"Izaya," the name comes out in a breathy sigh. Shizuo pulls back for a moment, catching Izaya's hand in his own. Their fingers thread together before their lips meet again.

This is more kissing than Izaya is accustomed to. Usually sex is much faster than this. What is wrong with this? He cannot untangle his jumbled thoughts. He finds himself lost trying to fathom the meaning behind the knots forming in his stomach. And the only conclusion that he can come to is both startling and terrifying – that he is legitimately developing something more than vague interest or morbid curiosity in Shizuo.

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**Author's Note:** It's super late here so I'm just going to say thanks for the reviews, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Sorry for the late update!


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